


Double Dare

by Anonymous



Series: Games [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-06 07:23:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11595723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: One game just wasn't enough.





	1. Lydia

The past two months had been blissfully quiet, which Stiles still teased Scott about whenever his best friend insisted on mentioning how peaceful Beacon Hills was. This was one of those times. “You bitched nonstop, up until someone pointed a gun at your head.” 

“Hey, I quit griping at least a week before that.” Scott protested, swinging his lacrosse stick forward to throw the ball to Stiles, who caught it and threw it back. Even though they had decided lacrosse just wasn’t for them, they still liked to play from time to time, to try to stay as healthy as they could. Scott didn’t want to upset Stiles, but he really didn’t think that anyone else would try to murder them. 

“Oh right, and then all you wanted to talk about was Allison and her purple hair, Allison’s cheekbones, Allison’s ass.” Stiles laughed when Allison threw a spare lacrosse ball at him. Things between them were still kind of strained, and she had said more than once that she thought Stiles needed therapy, that normal teenage boys didn’t call out a false warning to someone who probably wouldn’t have hurt them, then murder that person. Stiles didn’t have the heart to explain to Allison that a woman who would keep people in a freezer wasn’t going to operate by normal moral standards, and letting her go was, to his way of thinking, a way to sign his own death warrant. 

“I’m going shopping tonight, for my party next week.” Lydia called out, giving Stiles and Allison an exasperated smile. “Stiles, you have to come with me and get a new outfit. Erica, you’re welcome to come with, but you don’t have to. Allison, you need new jeans. Scott, I don’t really care what you wear, you’re hopeless, and Derek... find something other than black to wear.” She paused, glaring at him. “And don’t just show up in gray or white and say you followed my directions.” 

Cora giggled. “She knows all your bullshit tricks.” She told Derek. “Lydia, what about me?” 

“If I tried to tell you what to wear, would you even listen?” Lydia scoffed. 

“Not a chance.” Cora smiled. “And I know that drives you insane.” 

Stiles sat down on the bottom row of the bleachers and took a drink of water. “Does it bother anyone else that we’re at school on a Saturday?” 

“It could be worse.” Allison shrugged. “It could be that we’re stuck in detention on a Saturday.” 

Scott sat beside Allison and wrapped an arm around her, kissing her. “That would mean that Harris was stuck at school on a Saturday, too. He’s not the only teacher who gives detention, but Danny showed me a chart that had Harris’ detentions compared to every other teacher’s, and Harris had about three hundred and fifty percent more detentions.” 

Lydia glanced up, tilting her head as she considered that. “I believe it.” She murmured. “It’s strange not to have Jackson or Danny here with us. I used to think that you two were codependent in a way that was horribly unhealthy.” She told Stiles, referring to him and Scott. “But you’ve never scheduled dentist appointments on the same day.” She paused. “Have you?” 

“No.” Stiles snorted and shook his head. “We got tattoos on the same day, though.” He glanced down at the red skull and crossbones on his best friend’s arm, shaking his head. Scott’s explanation of ‘what? It’s ironic!’ had annoyed him, but when Scott admitted that he got the tattoo to remind himself how close he had come to death, that taking chances wasn’t always a good idea, Stiles had nodded in understanding. The second tattoo Stiles had inked on his skin had been designed by Lydia. He had the scales of justice on his right bicep, with a police badge in one side. He and Lydia had talked at length about what the other side of the scale needed in it, for balance. They hadn’t been able to decide on anything, so the tattoo was unfinished - for now. He glanced up at the sky. “We’d better get going.” He pointed up. “It’s going to rain.” 

“It doesn’t bother me.” Derek remarked, as all of the girls ran toward the parking lot. Scott hurried to catch up to Allison, and Theo grimaced and closed the book he was reading, looking up at the sky before he tucked his novel under his sweatshirt and ran toward his truck. 

Stiles laughed. “It doesn’t bother me, either. I just like when they run off because PDA has never really been my thing.” He leaned toward Derek for a kiss. “But it _is_ going to rain, though. Hard. Like my-” 

Derek put his hand over Stiles’ mouth. “Please stop talking.” 

Stiles grinned, licking Derek’s palm and laughing when Derek wiped his hand on Stiles’ shirt. “Lydia’s party is going to be fucking annoying.” He mumbled, putting his arms around Derek. “Kidnap me and take me somewhere?” 

“Nope.” Derek shook his head. “Weren’t you in love with her for years?”

“Okay, why does everyone keep reminding me about that?” Stiles frowned. His good mood plummeted. “Seriously, I’m not interested in her that way anymore. She’s my friend, but that’s it. I have you in my life now.” 

“I’m sorry.” Derek sighed. “I was trying to make a joke. I guess I’m not that good at it.” 

“No, you are.” Stiles protested. “Just... I like being with you.” He trailed his fingers down Derek’s chest. “I like that when Scott’s talking about Allison, or Erica’s making raunchy comments about Boyd, I can say, ‘yeah? Well, _my_ boyfriend...’ And people don’t laugh or insult me for it. I think seeing you again, the weekend that the dares started, knocked Lydia right off that pedestal I put her on. Scott knew right away, but it took me saving your ass to realize that I was - am - actually fond of it. And the rest of you is good, too.” He grinned.

Derek glanced up to see where their friends were before he gripped Stiles’ ass and pulled him close, not interested in public displays of affection any more than Stiles was. “I like yours, too.” 

“Well, my dad’s not home.” Stiles murmured against Derek’s lips. “So you can come over and we can talk about that a little more. Or not talk.” 

“I like not talking.” Derek nodded. He kissed Stiles again, then pulled away. “Come on, or I’ll stop caring that we’re out in the middle of an open field.” He walked toward his Camaro, calling out to his sister that he was going over to Stiles’ house. 

“Fine.” Lydia called out when Cora just shrugged in response. “But I’m coming over at six and if you’re not ready to go, Stiles? You’ll go in whatever you have on.” 

Stiles sighed. He wanted to argue with her, but she had once made him go to school in his pajama pants and bare feet, when the Jeep was being repaired. He had since started keeping a full change of clothes and a spare pair of sneakers in his locker. He nodded to Lydia and put his lacrosse gear in the back of the Jeep, looking around at all of the cars. Scott normally had his motorbike, but Allison had picked him up that morning. After the way that Danny and Derek had been abducted, everyone tended to keep an eye on each other. Lydia could have gone shopping by herself, but she didn’t want to. Jackson and Danny hadn’t needed to make dentist appointments on the same day, but Stiles understood their fear of being at the mercy of someone with surgical tools. 

That was another thing that had kept Stiles awake sometimes, thinking about how his boyfriend had been living in New York, thinking that Laura and Peter, who was in a coma, were the only relatives he had left, and that it was his fault. Laura had been murdered by Kate and Gerard because she was a loose end. According to Gerard, the Hales were demonic beasts who needed to be put down. He insisted, right up until the day he died, that something about them was evil and he was just trying to rid the world of that. Kate’s idea had been to make Derek compete in the last game cycle to earn money that would be used to buy food and water for Cora, to keep Kate herself paid off and not doing something like murdering Peter Hale in his hospital bed. Stiles asked himself in the morning and at night if he regretted pulling the trigger and ending Kate’s life. It had been more than two months and he was still fine with it. He started the long line of vehicles driving out of the lot, driving himself home and getting out of the Jeep. He waved as everyone but Derek drove past, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend again once they were alone in the front yard. 

“You need to stop thinking about January.” Derek sighed. “I’m fine. Cora and Danny are fine. You saved our lives because you didn’t give up. Gerard and Kate are both dead. You saw the bodies yourself, since you insisted on it.” He made a face. “I should find that weird, but instead, I think it’s endearing. You’ve turned me into a weirdo.” 

“You got yourself there.” Stiles grinned. “I had nothing to do with it. It just aggravates me that they were both crazy. Chris isn’t like that. How did it skip him? How is it possible that I don’t have dementia, that I don’t have the markers for it? Is it the same thing, do you think? Or is it a nurture thing? I mean, did Gerard snap after Chris was out of the house and raise Kate to be as nuts as he was? Or was it something else?” 

“Stiles.” Derek stared at him, waiting for him to stop talking for a blissful sixty seconds before he spoke again. “Have sex with me.” 

Stiles blinked. “Maybe I _do_ have dementia. The fuck did you just say to me? Not that I’m opposed to the idea, I just thought you wanted to wait.” 

Derek laughed. “I thought you did.” 

“Uh, no? No, I'm ready to go. I’ve been ready.” Stiles blurted. “We need to work on communicating more effectively, but it can wait until we make each other come.” He grinned and walked over to his front door to unlock it.

***

At six o’clock, Stiles had taken a shower and was dressed in jeans and a shirt that he had refused to part with, Lydia be damned. It was oversized, but it was his Beatles t-shirt. He opened the door just as she pulled up in the driveway, but she didn’t look happy to see him. “Okay, what’s wrong?” 

Lydia held an envelope out to him. “You tell me.” She snapped, her voice shaking. “I’ve had enough practical jokes from you, this is really the worst one. I don’t know why you thought it was a great idea.” 

Stiles frowned, waving a hand toward the stairs behind him to tell Lydia to sit down, then followed her up to the living room. “Where is everyone else?” 

“They’re on their way. I know we’re supposed to travel around like ducks, all in a line, but I just wanted to get over here and get some answers from you before the others showed up. Did you do this or not?” Lydia sank down onto the couch when Stiles pressed a hand on her shoulder. “Oh.” She sighed. “I didn’t even realize I was still standing.” 

Stiles got Lydia a glass of water and sat down by her to read the letter. 

 

_My Dear Friend,_

_You do not know me, but I know you. I am the Observer. I am Justice. Your judgment day is upon you._

_At the bottom of this letter is a list of names. Your name is at the top. You must atone for your sins by following my instructions. When you have done so, put your name at the bottom of the second column and make a copy of the letter, sending it to the next person on the list. You will find your mission in the ads section of the Beacon Hills Chronicle. You have five days to complete your task and send the letter to the next person on the list._

_You may discuss this letter with anyone whose name is on the list, but no one else. If you choose not to follow my instructions, you will suffer the consequences._

Lydia ________ _______  
Jackson ________ _______  
Scott ________ _______  
Allison ________ _______  
Stiles ________ _______  
Theo ________ _______  
Erica ________ _______  


 

Stiles gulped and looked up at Lydia. “I can see why you thought it was me, talking about Observers and Justice. And Derek not being on here is odd, but neither are Danny and Cora. Maybe it’s because they were taken, so whoever wrote this letter sees them as innocent and the rest of us as guilty? I mean, we all either played or watched the game of our own volition. But Derek was forced, Cora was kidnapped and Danny was blackmailed or extorted. The most likely suspects would be people who lost early on, maybe.” He heard the front door open. “Hey, come on up.” He called out. “We’ve got a problem.” 

“So I hear.” Theo muttered, sitting down on the floor of the living room. “Can I see that?” 

Stiles handed the sheet of paper to Theo. Sometimes, he still wondered if he was doing the right thing by trusting him, since Theo had showed up at his house and said he was going to murder him. He had kept that part from the rest of their friends, since he knew he would have probably reacted the same way. Instead, he had told everyone that Theo demanded answers about a hit being placed on Stiles. The actual words Theo had used were ‘tell me why somebody wants you dead and I’ll decide whether or not I should follow through on it.’ In a strange way, that had been what earned Stiles’ respect. But he couldn’t help wondering now if Theo still saw himself as judge, jury and executioner.

“Why the fuck isn’t your boyfriend on this list?” Theo demanded. “Or his sister?” 

Lydia sounded exhausted when she spoke. “Stiles was just saying that because they and Danny, who also isn’t on the list, were kidnapped, they’re innocent in the eyes of this jackass. If you’re going to suspect Stiles, you may as well suspect anyone else on the list.” 

“Or people not on the list.” Stiles sighed. “Brett, Matt, Meredith, Ethan and Aiden. They quit playing and helped us advance because they were falling too far behind in the rankings. It’s possible that they think they could have won without pissing off the Argents.”

“That explains them being mad at the two of you, and Scott and Allison.” Lydia frowned. “But not me or Erica. Or Jackson.” 

“You know who else isn’t on this list?” Theo muttered. “Boyd. Can we trust him? He’s in ROTC, right? Don’t those guys eat rulebooks for breakfast?” 

Stiles laughed as the door opened again and more of his friends arrived. “How the fuck am I supposed to keep this from Derek?” 

Allison looked at Theo, Stiles and Lydia for a long moment. “I’ll make coffee.” 

“I’ll order pizza.” Scott offered. 

“Ugh, pizza and coffee sounds fucking disgusting.” Erica dropped onto the couch beside Stiles and kissed his cheek. “Oh my god, the unicorns are going to cry.” 

Stiles blushed, ducking his head and trying not to laugh. “Do I want to know how you know?” 

“You have beard burn all over the place, you utter moron.” Lydia murmured. “Congratulations.” 

“What the fuck did I miss?” Theo looked bewildered.

“Stilinski had sex. Finally.” Jackson shut the door and locked it, then walked up the stairs to the living room. 

“The fact that you’re all gleeful about this is horrible.” Stiles muttered, shaking his head and laughing. “And we have a big problem. Just read the letter and then we need to talk about how to handle this.” He waited as Allison made coffee for everyone and brought them their preferred drinks. 

Allison was the last one to read the letter and she frowned and handed it back to Lydia. “Well, if we can’t tell Boyd, Cora, Derek, Danny or any of our parents, that doesn’t leave us much we can do. I don’t want to avoid them for the next month while we all take our turns, and if this guy really wants us to do this a second time after that, that’s two months without a word to anyone not on the list. That’s not fair to them. They deserve to know.” 

“Okay, two things.” Stiles frowned. “One, how do you know a guy wrote this, and two, what if telling them marks them for death? How do we guarantee that whoever this person is, they’ll know if we say something?” 

“I detest generalizations.” Lydia began, glancing at Allison before she continued speaking. “But this is a person who wants us to suffer in a specific way. I used to make Jackson watch The Notebook when he pissed me off because it was double the enjoyment. I got to watch a movie I love, and he was forced to watch a movie he hated - and I got to watch him watching it. My mom’s method of making my father grovel was to get new jewelry. If there’s nothing to gloat about, the stereotypical woman won’t be interested. This guy wants us to suffer in silence. He’s not getting joy out of our impending pain, he really believes he’s tried us and found us guilty of something.”

“There’s nothing stereotypical about you, Lyds.” Jackson muttered. “I think we should ignore what the fuck he says, he’s not going to tell us what to do. Stilinski, for fuck’s sake, just call your dad like you did last time we dealt with this kind of shit, and get him to handle it. Then let Danny hack into the police records or whatever it is, and get the guy’s name so you can shoot him in the head, too.” 

Allison looked pale and ran down the hall to the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind her. 

“Jackson, you’re a tactless idiot.” Lydia sighed. “Erica, want to come with me and see if Ally is okay?” 

“Yeah.” Erica kicked Jackson in the shin on her way past him, smiling widely when he swore at her. 

“As much as I think that was the worst way it could have been phrased,” Scott began, “I think Jackson has the right idea. The four people we spend time with, who aren’t on this list, aren’t just going to accept that we suddenly don’t want to talk to them. And they don’t deserve it. I don’t want someone to tell my mom that I’m on my way to possibly being locked in a freezer again.” 

“And if we tell everyone and they get murdered, whose fault is that?” Stiles sighed. 

“Ours, for not listening.” Theo muttered. “Everybody knows we’re friends, though. So maybe what we should do is just say we’re all sick with the same thing? We can keep up with our homework by emailing it in, do what this guy wants... if it even is a guy, I’m still not sure about that... and we can just text everyone not on the list to communicate with them that way, until we’re done with this. I don’t think we’ll need a whole two months, anyway. We each have five days to do whatever the first set of tasks are, but if we just do them one day after another, that’s only a week. Chickenpox is a two week illness, right? And it’s contagious. So we all have it, like magic.” 

“But how do we all have it, and they don’t?” Stiles frowned. “That’s going to come up, you know? Derek just rubbed all over me - what, he _did_ , okay? And I don’t know if he’s ever had it. But if he hasn’t, he’s going to wonder how I got it and he didn’t.” 

Theo snorted. “Maybe we should just give the four of them chickenpox, then. Keep them out of school or away from us in general, in Derek’s case, for two or three weeks.” 

“Boyd has younger siblings, you’d infect all of them.” Stiles shook his head. “Maybe don’t make biological warfare our Plan A, you know?” 

“Argue.” Jackson muttered. “I hate to say it, but that’s probably what it’s going to take. If I refuse to talk to Danny, it wouldn’t be the first time. Cora won’t talk to Stiles if she thinks he’s being a douche to Derek, and Derek would get upset if Stiles sneezed at him. Probably. That just leaves Boyd, who... I don’t know what the fuck it would take to piss him off.” 

“Hang on.” Stiles called Derek as the girls came back from the bathroom. He held his index finger up, sighing when his boyfriend answered. “Derek, hey. I know we were just talking about how we are really bad at communication, but... uh, there’s this thing that happened that I can’t talk to you about right now. It’s going to take anywhere from two weeks to two months to fix. I’ll still text you, but I’ve been... sort of instructed that I can’t talk to you, Boyd, Cora or Danny. And neither can Jackson, Lydia, Theo, Scott, Allison and Erica. I thought that if anyone could understand, you would. I’m sorry, this timing is really shitty, but I swear that’s not my fault. Don’t ask my dad about it either, please. I... I have to go.” He hung up a moment later, embarrassed that he had almost told Derek he loved him. “That probably wasn’t the way to go, but it’s too late now. At least Derek can explain to everyone else why we’re not speaking to them. That takes care of - seriously, chickenpox?” He smacked Theo in the back of the head. 

Theo grimaced, rubbing the back of his head. “I didn’t think ‘hey, we have to tell you that there’s something we can’t tell you’ would work. How do we get out of school, though?” 

“We can’t get out of going to school.” Lydia frowned. “It’s not like we can leave town, we need to be able to read the paper every day and see what we have to do, and prove to this person, who’s probably a student with us, that we’ve done what they want.” 

“What makes you so sure that it’s a student?” Scott looked at the letter again. “Oh. School stationery.” 

“It might be a faculty member?” Allison looked around at everyone, gauging their reactions. “Like the vice-principal or someone, even. Because he gives out punishments at school when you go to the office, and also, male.” 

“It could be one of us. There’s no better way to monitor what we’re doing if we can only talk to one another.” Stiles sighed. “But I don’t want to believe that.” 

“What we need to do is find a paper and help Lydia find her punishment, so we can get hers done and move on to mine.” Jackson grumbled. “I just want to get this shit over with.” 

“You’ve got a potty mouth worse than mine today.” Erica smiled. 

“Well, when these two testicles are having more sex than I am...” Jackson shook his head. “Whatever.” 

“Does anyone even read the newspaper anymore?” Stiles snorted. 

“Deaton gets it. But he uses it to line the cages.” Scott frowned. “So never mind, I guess.” 

“Jackson, go buy a newspaper.” Lydia sighed. “Please? You can take Scott with you.” 

“Why do I have to take-” Jackson groaned. “God, whatever. Hurry up, dickbag.” He stomped down the stairs and out to his car. 

Scott rolled his eyes and kissed Allison, then ran after Jackson. 

Stiles laid down on the floor and stared up at the ceiling. “What do you think this guy really wants?” He asked after a long moment. “I mean, to make us suffer, I know. But twice, for what basically amounts to one crime?” 

“Yeah, I don’t get that, either. The only one who really committed a crime...” Allison trailed off. 

“What?” Stiles looked up at her. “The only one who committed a crime was me,” he guessed. “That’s what you were going to say, right?” 

“Well, you _did_ kill my aunt instead of letting her go on trial and go to prison, and now you’re walking around with those justice scales like you think it’s a joke. And this guy says that he’s justice, so what do you expect me to believe?” Allison snapped. “If it’s not you, it’s somebody who really hates you. We’re all just being dragged along for the ride.” 

“Allison.” Lydia frowned. “I talked him into that tattoo because it suits him. Are you pissed off at me for that?” 

“No.” Allison sighed. “I just can’t get the sight of my aunt being murdered in front of me out of my head, and she wasn’t even threatening Stiles, he just yelled like she was and then he shot her.” 

“You know as well as I do that she would have just done it again and again. She would have come after us.” Stiles insisted. 

“No, I _don’t_ know that!” Allison shook her head. “And I never will, because you took her away from me.” 

“Maybe it’s you.” Stiles stared up at Allison, then sat up. “You keep forgetting the fact that she was keeping Derek, Cora and Danny locked in a freezer and was going to happily put Scott in there with them, even after you told her he’s asthmatic and the cold would have killed him. She wanted him to die! Do you think that’s something I can just forgive?!” 

“Stiles, stop yelling, please?” Erica said softly. 

“I didn’t realize I was.” Stiles took a deep breath, then another, and looked up at Allison again. “You’re only just now getting what it’s like to be in one place for more than a few weeks. But Scott and I have been around each other since we were freshly potty-trained and we’ve been through a lot of shit together. Not just the thing with your aunt, I’m talking about being attacked at school more than once and the teachers looking the other way. His dad insisting that it was somehow Scott’s fault when a sixth grader was stealing his lunch money, when we were in second grade. Being laughed at in the hallways, having Nazi symbols drawn on my locker...” Stiles shook his head. “You want a list? I can give you a list. Maybe I snapped, maybe I didn’t. All I know is that she was going to kill him and she was excited about it, and I couldn’t let that go. I don’t regret it now, I didn’t regret it last week, I won’t regret it next year. This fucking idiot thinking he’s going to teach me a lesson is only pissing me off, and when I find him...” 

“You’ll what, kill him?” Allison scoffed. 

“If he tries to kill Scott, yes.” Stiles said bluntly. “Or any of the rest of you, because you all matter to me. Even Jackson, god help me.” He laughed quietly. “But as long as this Observer guy stays on his side of the line, I won’t have to do anything. I’ll tell my dad and let him handle it, like Jackson thinks I should do.” 

Allison stayed seated on the couch, drinking her coffee and waiting for Scott and Jackson to come back. It wasn’t much longer before they returned, and the classified ads section was spread out across the coffee table. 

“I don’t see a ‘Lydia Martin’ on here.” Erica frowned. “But I do something addressed to ‘L.M.’ You really won’t like it.” 

Lydia moved closer to Erica, reading what the blonde girl was marking with her index finger. “Cut your hair. Cut _my_ hair?” She blurted. “Fine, but then I’ll save it and turn it into a garrote.” 

“Lydia!” Allison blurted, horrified. 

Erica giggled. “I love when you get pissed off. And I don’t blame you, I’d be just as mad.” 

“Give me the damned scissors before I change my mind.” Lydia snapped, but her voice shook. “Stiles, when you find out who’s doing this, I want an opportunity to slap him.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Stiles agreed. 

Lydia took the scissors that Scott was holding out to her, gripping her hair and cutting it to her shoulders. She knew it was uneven, but her vision blurred as she started crying, and she could barely focus on anything at all.

“Shh.” Erica said gently, taking the scissors from Lydia and doing her best to even the cut into something less severe. “It’s not that bad.” She said gently, rubbing Lydia’s back. “And it’s still long enough that you can get extensions later, if you want them. After we’re done with these trial things. You’re still amazing.” She looked up at Stiles, scowling at him and nodding toward Lydia. 

“She’s right.” Stiles murmured, not needing to lie. “I might not see you as some kind of idea anymore, I see you as an actual person now, and I still think you’re incredible.” 

“I want to go home.” Lydia whispered, wiping tears out of her eyes. “Please, can someone drive me? I’ll get my car later, or whatever. I don’t care.” 

“I’ll drive you home.” Theo offered. 

Lydia nodded and trudged down the stairs, too choked up to say anything else.

“Take the letter and go with her.” Stiles told Allison. “Make sure she copies it over and gives it to Jackson tomorrow, so he can do what he has to do.”


	2. Jackson

_My Dear Friend,_

_You do not know me, but I know you. I am the Observer. I am Justice. Your judgment day is upon you._

_At the bottom of this letter is a list of names. Your name is at the top. You must atone for your sins by following my instructions. When you have done so, put your name at the bottom of the second column and make a copy of the letter, sending it to the next person on the list. You will find your mission in the ads section of the Beacon Hills Chronicle. You have five days to complete your task and send the letter to the next person on the list._

_You may discuss this letter with anyone whose name is on the list, but no one else. If you choose not to follow my instructions, you will suffer the consequences.  
_

~~Lydia~~ ________ _______  
Jackson ________ _______  
Scott ________ _______  
Allison ________ _______  
Stiles ________ _______  
Theo ________ _______  
Erica Lydia _______

 

Jackson had hoped to get his task on Sunday, but checking the paper on Sunday morning made him realize that it was probably going to take a day between letter recipients to know what would come next, so that their mysterious judge would have time to change the ad in the paper. He sent a text to everyone on the list to give them the bad news, that this would be drawn out a little longer than expected, then went about his day like normal. Or he tried to, anyway. He usually spent Sundays with Danny, getting caught up on homework that he had neglected on Friday night and Saturday. Instead, he loaded up his backpack and went over to Lydia’s house, grimacing at the sight of Theo’s blue truck in the driveway. He let himself in with his key, thinking about how he had demanded one to Lydia’s house, since she never had returned the one he gave her. “Lyds?” He called out. 

“I’m upstairs!” Lydia yelled back to him. “I’ll be right down.” 

Jackson groaned and sat down in the chair, knowing that ‘I’ll be right down’ in Lydia’s world usually meant that she was going to try out five different hairstyles, go back to the one she had started with, and drive him nuts in the process. He was surprised, then, when she really did come right downstairs. Her hair was even shorter than the day before, falling to her chin, and she gave him a hesitant smile. 

“How bad is it?” Lydia asked softly. “I don’t think I hate it, but it feels so strange.” 

“I think it looks beautiful.” 

Jackson thought the words came from his own mouth, but it didn’t sound at all like his voice, and he looked up at the stairs to see Theo. Jackson closed his mouth, frowning. He didn’t know why Theo was always around, these days. The only thing he had done was something he actually _hadn’t_ done, and that was killing Stiles. It wasn’t the sort of thing that Jackson thought made a good foundation for friendship, but he figured an idiot like Stilinski, who didn’t really have a lot of friends, might not realize that. 

When he looked back at Lydia, he saw her smiling as she turned to face Theo. He felt sick to his stomach. He knew what it was, he was jealous. But he hadn’t been very kind to Lydia when they were dating, and he regretted it. It was too late, though. He could see that already, even if Lydia didn’t know it. “I just came over to see if you could help me with my homework?” Jackson said quickly. “I normally get Danny to check my answers, but I can’t talk to him, just in case Judge Dredd is watching and... _goddammit_ I spend too much time around nerds!” 

Theo burst out laughing, and Lydia joined in. “If you don’t mind it, we can both help you with your homework.” Theo offered. “That way, you can get done faster, because we can cover two subjects at once.” 

Jackson realized that Theo was trying to get him to hurry up and go away, but he didn’t feel like arguing. He wondered if they had spent the night together, then decided he didn’t want to know at all. “Sure, yeah. That works for me.” He muttered. 

***

At school the next day, nobody could seem to stop talking about Lydia’s haircut, and Jackson rolled his eyes as he watched one girl after another go up to Lydia and ask her where she got her hair done and who her stylist was. He tried to look for anyone suspicious who was staring at Lydia, but one of the reasons he had been interested in her in the first place was because everyone stared at her. Her hair being short only got her even more attention. He wasn’t sure why she had burst into tears on Saturday night. 

He had almost forgotten about the task that the creep had for him, but Lydia handed him the ads section of that day’s paper, during lunch. She had already circled his ad for him, which irritated him and he wasn’t sure why. “‘J. W. quit lacrosse.’ Well, fuck that. I guess you’re going to have to give me a consequence, whoever you are.” He snapped, tossing the paper back down onto the table. “I will _never_ quit lacrosse. I’m getting a scholarship for it and getting out of this town forever.” 

“Even if it means that Danny gets murdered?” Theo frowned. 

“Look, you fuckstick-” 

“Fuckstick?!” Erica repeated gleefully. 

Jackson ignored her. “I know it looks like I have a lot going for me, but in case you didn’t notice? I can’t talk to my best friend. I don’t have a girlfriend, and girls aren’t exactly lining up to date me these days, since I started spending time with Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dick.” 

“Which one of us is Tweedle DIck?” Scott asked Stiles. 

“Me, mine’s bigger.” Stiles said quickly, grinning. 

“I’m pretty sure Tweedle Dick implies that you’re lacking.” Lydia commented, and Jackson had had enough. 

“Would you all just shut the fuck up?!” Jackson snapped. The cafeteria fell silent, and he could feel everyone staring at him. “I have to get out of here.” He muttered, leaving the room. He wasn’t even sure where he was going until he got to Coach Finstock’s office. The man aggravated him on a good day, but he liked to use doublespeak all the time, and Jackson felt like turning someone’s bullshit around on them. “Hey, Coach.” He began. “Listen, someone wants me to quit lacrosse, but I don’t feel like it, so I’m just not going to, okay?” 

Finstock glanced up at Jackson. “Who the hell told you to quit lacrosse? Was it your dad?” 

“No, Coach.” Jackson sighed. 

“Your mom?” Finstock looked confused. 

“No, it was...” Jackson hesitated, wondering if telling the truth would get his teacher murdered. “Someone who knows exactly what would piss me off and make me feel backed into a corner.” 

“So fight back.” Finstock shrugged, a distant look in his eyes before he spoke again. “‘Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain't all sunshine and rainbows. It is a very mean and nasty place, and it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain't how hard you hit; it's about how hard you can get hit, and keep moving forward. How much you can take, and keep moving forward. That's how winning is done. Now, if you know what you're worth, then go out and get what you're worth. But you gotta be willing to take the hit, and not pointing fingers saying you ain't where you are because of him, or her, or anybody. Cowards do that and that ain't you. You're better than that.’” 

Jackson stared in disbelief. “Did you just quote Rocky at me?” He snorted and shook his head. “Never mind, it actually works, for once. Okay, yeah. Like I said, I’m not quitting.” 

“Good! See you at practice.” Finstock clapped a hand down on Jackson’s shoulder. 

***

After school, Jackson got into his lacrosse gear and walked out to the field, waving to his friends. He came face to face with Danny for the first time since Saturday afternoon and sighed. “Hey, I’m sorry. Derek called you, right? I can’t talk about it, but it’s going to be over with soon enough, anyway. And I can still text you or talk on skype.”

“And there’s no chance of going to the Sheriff for whatever it is?” Danny frowned. 

“No, there isn’t.” Jackson muttered. “I can’t tell you more than that.” He walked away to get into formation, leaving Danny to cover the goal, like he usually did. He was looking down at his gloves when he heard a series of loud popping noises, and then Danny was screaming and people were running, and Jackson had no idea what he had just missed. He ran toward the goal, stopping when Finstock screamed at everyone to get back. “Is Danny okay, though?” He demanded. “Coach, he’s fine, right?” 

“Looks like he got hit by debris from whatever the hell he stepped on. Like ROTC planted land mines or something out here, for godsakes.” Finstock muttered. 

Jackson tensed, thinking of the fact that Boyd was in ROTC. But he didn’t think he had it in him to hurt Danny, and Theo had explained his reasoning behind his belief that military guys tended to be kind of messed up and liked order. He wondered again if Theo was just saying that sort of thing to throw them off of the fact that he was probably the one guilty of sending the letter to Lydia and putting the ads in the paper. He walked over to Stiles and Lydia, keeping his voice down. “I have to talk to the two of you.” He muttered. “Right now.” 

Lydia nodded and climbed down from the bleachers, waiting for Stiles before she followed Jackson over to his car, where they wouldn't be eavesdropped on. “Okay, if you’re asking if you should drop lacrosse, the answer is yes.” She said abruptly. “Because I realized something. Danny is important to you and I, Derek is important to Stiles and Erica. Boyd is important to Erica and Allison, and Cora is important to Scott and to you.” 

Jackson looked confused. “Cora is important to me? Since when?” 

“Since you met her?” Stiles snorted. “You seriously didn’t even realize you like her? She’s the only person that you don’t yell at when you get called out on your shit.” 

“Before we talk about that any further, did you notice something about what you just said?” Jackson gave them a pointed look. “Theo. None of those four people that we’re currently avoiding matter to Theo. And I didn’t quit lacrosse, and Danny got hit by shrapnel or whatever the hell that was.” 

“Shrapnel?” Stiles shook his head. “You know those popper things that you throw at the ground and they explode? Someone rigged them with a sort of tripwire and it snagged when you weren’t paying attention.” 

“Did you see who had it?” 

“No, it was tied to a drone thing.” Stiles muttered. “So the person doing this could have been anywhere in this town. I’m not saying it’s not Theo...” 

“It’s not Theo.” Lydia frowned. 

“I”m not saying it’s not Theo.” Stiles repeated. “But whoever attacked Danny is only going to attack him again if you don’t quit. I’m sorry, I don’t know what else I can tell you. All of us have at least one person who could get hurt if we don’t comply, Jackson. I don’t want to wait around and see what this guy is going to do next, do you? I don’t want Danny to die.” 

“Call your dad!” Jackson snapped. “Tell him Theo is doing this shit and he needs to stop. Have him get a warrant to search Theo’s house for a drone. Do something.” 

“Theo cares about me.” Lydia interjected, looking back and forth between Stiles and Jackson. “If something happened to me, he would be just as affected as you two have been.” 

“Okay, Lydia, we get the point.” Stiles muttered. “But that doesn’t mean he’s not guilty. You had to cut your hair. Jackson has to quit lacrosse? Those things don’t really compare with one another. Just because you were proud...” He trailed off. “Pride. He’s seven-deadly-sinning us. It’s got to be some religious fanatic, right? Do we even know anyone like that?” 

“It rules out Theo for sure.” Lydia remarked. “Because he’s an atheist.” 

“Would you stop whining about your boyfriend?” Jackson snapped. 

Lydia stared up at Jackson, unimpressed. “Look for anyone who prays before they eat lunch, tomorrow. In the meantime, you need to figure out what you’re going to do, because whoever wants to hurt Danny to make you suffer? They’re not going to stop until you give in. And if the situation was reversed? Danny would quit lacrosse without a second thought. You should get over your pride and do the same, before you get him killed.” 

“Just quit for the rest of the season and pick it up again next year.” Stiles suggested. “Say that you have concerns about playing on a field that was rigged with explosives. We’re only sophomores, the world won’t end if you sit out another five games.” 

Jackson sighed, but he nodded a moment later. “Fine. If it means that Danny stays alive, I’ll do it.” He walked back over to where Finstock was standing, near the bench. Danny was sitting there, holding an ice pack on his right calf. 

Once Jackson knew that Danny would be all right, he could do what he had to do. “Coach, I quit.” Jackson took his jersey off and tossed it to the baffled teacher, then went into the locker room to change his clothes. When that was done, he sat down and rewrote the letter, putting his name in the second column. He walked out to his car and drove out to Deaton’s clinic, handing the letter to Scott. “Your turn, McCall.” He sighed. “I wasn’t going to give in, but I had to.” 

“What happened?” Scott set a kitten in one of the cages and locked the door, then stood up straight and looked at Jackson. 

Jackson got choked up and needed a minute before he could speak. “Not a whole lot, Danny’s okay. But this Observer guy rigged the goal with probably a couple hundred of those popper things, full of gunpowder and sand or sawdust or whatever it is. It sounded like he was being shot at.” Jackson barely noticed when Scott made him sit down and got him a bottle of water. “Thanks.” He felt awkward and kept talking to try to cover it up. “Stilinski says that the whole lot of them were tied to a trip wire thing, and that was attached to a drone. So this guy was watching me, saw me in my lacrosse uniform, and decided to attack Danny. So I quit. Because Lydia and Stilinski are right, it would just be worse tomorrow. And they think that the dickhead is religious because he’s been going after our pride. Uh... a seven deadly sins thing? I guess he sees pride as one of the worst ones? What the hell is wrong with being proud of what you’re good at?” 

“Nothing.” Scott said gently. “Some people are just assholes.” 

After a few minutes of silence, Jackson looked up at Scott. “I know Lydia’s not religious, unless worshipping Sephora counts.” He snorted. “Is Allison?” 

“Allison isn’t behind this.” Scott looked defensive. 

“Okay, it’s easy to say that.” Jackson argued. “But she’s pissed off at Stiles because of what he did to her aunt, so that gives her motive. You can cuddle her all you want and call her baby and sugar or whatever you two do when you’re alone, but you need to be objective for the next few weeks, or someone is going to die, and it might be one of us.” 

Scott sighed, sitting down beside Jackson. “Okay, objectively, we all have reason for this. I can’t make a board the way that Stiles does, but I can do this.” He grabbed a notepad and wrote down all seven of their names. “Allison is upset about her aunt. Erica couldn’t play because of her epilepsy.” 

“That’s a shitty motive.” Jackson muttered. 

Scott looked up at Jackson. “Norman Bates killed women because his dead mother told him to.” 

Jackson snorted. “Fair enough. What else?” 

“This is going to sound really bad.” Scott muttered. “But mine would probably be that Stiles is always dragging me into shit that I don’t even want to do.” He wrote it down, sighing. “Theo wanted to win. That’s an even worse motive than Erica’s, because everybody that played wanted to win, that was the point. But he’s always looking at Stiles like...” He shook his head. “Like Stiles ruined something for him, even though we’re all getting money for just having been involved in everything. I guess a few thousand dollars can’t compare to a million or more, though. Lydia... um. Lydia doesn’t need a motive.” Scott looked embarrassed. “Because she could just as easily decide she doesn’t like us and she wants us all to suffer.”

“You’re going to have to burn that paper when you’re done writing this stuff down.” Jackson teased. “But I agree, for what it’s worth. What’s mine?” 

Scott studied Jackson. “The game is partly responsible for your break-up with Lydia, and it was Stiles’ dare that made her decide it was a good idea. You just said the other day that you haven’t dated since, and to go from having a steady girlfriend for a few years to not being able to date is kinda rough. Or so I’m assuming. I wouldn’t know. That’s not an insult toward you, it’s just that I’ve only been dating Allison a couple of months now.” 

“Relax, McCall. I get it.” Jackson assured the nervous teen. “What’s Stiles’ motive? You haven’t written down anything for him yet.” 

“He doesn’t feel any guilt for killing Kate.” Scott said cautiously, cringing once the words were out of his mouth. “It’s like he’s proud of himself for it, and this person wants everyone to let go of their pride. Maybe that’s his guilt, I guess? Like he can’t let go of his until other people let go of theirs.” 

“I can see that.” Jackson nodded. “But he’s not last on the list. So if it was him, why are Erica and Theo after him?” 

“Because Erica’s pride is something she deserves to have.” Scott reasoned after a long moment of thought. “I’m trying to think like Stiles, and I’m not very good at it. Erica didn’t really have any friends until she started talking to Stiles about the videos, and he sees her as being like a little sister he has to protect. So her pride wouldn’t be his concern. And Theo could have killed Stiles, or at least tried to. But he didn’t. He asked questions, instead. Stiles has a lot of respect for him, even though he doesn’t like him. I think they have a lot more in common, personality-wise, than Stiles and I do. Sometimes, I think...” He shook his head. “Never mind.” 

“Yeah, you don’t have to tell me.” Jackson muttered. “I yelled at Lydia about defending her boyfriend a little bit ago and she didn’t deny it. I hate that guy. Anyway, now argue the other side of it. Why would our motives fall apart? My dad does this shit all the time, so I kind of picked up a few things.” 

Scott smiled, but didn’t comment on the fact that he thought Jackson was really good at this sort of thing. “Allison wouldn’t hurt someone just to make a point to someone else. She’s pissed off at Stiles and she knows how to use weapons. If she wanted to hurt or kill him, she would have done it by now. It’s been two months and she’s got a stockpile of weapons and bullets to choose from.” He crossed Allison’s name off of the list. “Erica couldn’t care less about religion, and she wouldn't be anonymous about vengeance. She would tell everyone what she was doing, and she’d be happy about it.” 

“And you have the same sort of anti-motive, or whatever you want to call it, that Allison does.” Jackson murmured. “If you wanted to hurt me, you wouldn’t have attacked Danny.” 

“I hate having to say this.” Scott frowned. “But that’s not true. Everyone knows that you and Danny are friends. The fastest way to get you to do what he wanted was for this guy to hurt Danny, even a little. But I wouldn’t spend my money on a drone. Inhalers aren’t cheap and neither are house payments, bills, roof repairs, car repairs... it feels like I’ll never stop needing money for fixing things. Me, my house, my mom’s car. I wouldn't even think about getting a drone.” 

“What would be a reason to rule Theo out? Other than atheism.” Jackson muttered. “Is there anything that would clear him?” 

“If Theo was last on the list, I’d say no.” Scott murmured. “But Erica’s last, instead. And Stiles isn’t first. Lydia is. But Theo likes Lydia. But I guess that could be a reason for a motive, not against it.” He set the pen down, staring off into space for a moment. “I’ve always tried to see the good in people, and I don’t want to sound whiny or jealous, but Stiles and I only had each other to talk to, for a long time. I love Allison and I’m glad we have a lot more friends now, and that Stiles is happy with Derek, even though that’s kind of weird because Stiles never shuts up and Derek never talks. But still, Stiles is happy, so I’m happy for him. It’s just that... I don’t like Theo. I’ve never had a problem with anyone.” 

“Theo showed up in your life right after Allison’s aunt held a gun to your head.” Jackson pointed out, putting a hand on Scott’s shoulder after he flinched. “Sorry.” He said gently. “I’m just saying that it’s normal not to trust anyone new. Have you been to a therapist?” When Scott gave him a pointed smile, he laughed softly. “Right, money issues. Maybe you should talk to our school counselor, then. You don’t really participate in gym, do you? Maybe you can just talk to her then.” 

“I’ll give it a try.” Scott mumbled. “Let’s hold off on trying to clear Theo’s motive right now, since neither of us can find a reason to. Maybe that’s best left to Lydia and Stiles?” 

“I don’t think we need to tell them we’re doing this.” Jackson sat up straight, letting his hand fall from Scott’s shoulder. “They would just be pissed off at us for not finding reasons on our own to rule Theo out, and we don’t need to be fighting with each other right now.” 

Scott nodded in agreement. “In terms of similar anti-motives?” He smiled, borrowing Jackson’s phrase. “You’re kind of like Erica in that you wouldn’t do something anonymously. You wouldn’t be as vocal about it, but you’d taunt the person you were targeting, afterward. I know that for a fact because you did it to me.” He looked embarrassed. “Ninth grade, you wrote all over my backpack and I had to go get a new one, but you did it at lunch and I had to spend the rest of the school day with that bag. The next morning, before first period, you walked past me and called me a bunch of the names you’d written on the backpack. In Sharpie.” 

“I’m trying to be nicer.” Jackson said quietly. “I’m sorry I did that to you. It’s not an excuse, but... I wouldn't have acted like that if I had known that there were psychopaths out there that would try to hurt or kill my best friend, and that you and Stiles, the guys I tormented the most, would be the ones to help save him. I can’t take it back. But now that I know more about all of this, now that I’m paying attention, I’m not going to let Danny suffer. I hate that I had to quit lacrosse, though. This person really knows what would hurt us the most, and I don’t like that.” He shook his head. “Anyway, Stiles and Lydia?” 

“Stiles is too impatient for drawn out revenge like this.” Scott mused. “He would have put all of the ads in the paper at once and given everyone one or two days to follow through. He gets this look on his face when he’s determined to make someone suffer or pay for something they did. It’s like he’s a different person. I think that’s what really scared Allison. That Stiles could look so much like a monster and then do what he did. For me, it’s just Stiles. For Allison, he’s a walking nightmare. I mean that in the literal sense. She has bad dreams about that night. I watched him when Lydia was cutting her hair on Saturday. He didn’t look like he was enjoying her suffering. I think that the Observer only thinks he knows us. He doesn’t know Stiles, what Stiles is capable of. I don’t really agree with vengeance, I think people can be redeemed. But when we find out who’s doing this, Stiles is more than likely going to kill whoever it is. I’m scared for him. He can’t keep getting away with it. He’s going to end up in prison.” 

“Maybe we should take turns keeping an eye on him, then. We can talk him out of retaliating. Or at least, I’d like to think so.” Jackson stared down at Lydia’s name and motive. “Lydia would have never given herself the task of cutting her hair. You saw how she was crying. Her hair has been long since we were kids, and she kept it that way because her grandmother called her Ariel and she loved that. I know Lydia thinks I don’t know her very well, just because she was playing dumb all the time. And she did have me fooled sometimes. I’m talking Jessica Simpson levels of stupid. But she would have given herself something that she could go back and fix later, like a bad grade on a test. It’s not Lydia.” 

“I believe you.” Scott murmured. “I’m kind of worried about what I’ll have to do on Wednesday, but I’ve never considered myself very prideful. My mom wouldn’t ever let me walk around with an over-inflated ego. She probably calls me names more than you ever did. But she’s not malicious about it, before you get the wrong idea. Oh god.” He sat back, sighing. “I’m proud of my mom. I really hope I don’t have to hurt her somehow. I won’t be able to do that, and that’s going to put someone else in danger.” 

“If this guy wants you to hurt your mom, I don’t care what Stilinski says, we’re going to his dad. But I don’t see him disagreeing with that decision.”


	3. Scott

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last two times I tried to format the columns at the bottom of the letter, they looked terrible. I've decided not to put the new version of the letter at the start of each chapter. You can imagine it being there, if you'd like.

On Wednesday morning, Scott stared glumly at the ad in the paper. 

_S. M. Sell your dirtbike._

“It’s not that bad.” Allison put her arm around Scott, whispering to him. “Okay? You can get rides from the rest of us, and we’ll buy it back for you when this is over.” 

“It’s not that.” Scott shook his head and turned, leaning back against his locker. “That bike was the only good thing about the game for me.” 

“Oh, the only thing?” Allison teased, but Scott could tell that he had hurt her feelings. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Scott said quickly. “I was just telling Jackson the other day that everything is a struggle for me, financially. I don’t want to offend you, but you don’t understand what that’s like. You and Lydia and Jackson don’t know what it means to be broke. To watch your mom cry as she has to decide between paying for electricity or heat. Having that dirtbike wasn’t just great for me, it was great for my mom. There were a few times that she walked to work in winter so that I could have the car, because you actually have to pay a bus rider fee at the start of the school year, and we couldn’t afford it in time. I was riding my bike - my regular bike, I mean - to and from school when I could, but I couldn’t keep doing that. The dirtbike was faster and I didn’t have to exert myself to use it. I’m already talking about it in past tense.” 

“I have a truck and a car.” Jackson walked over to Scott, dangling a set of keys in front of him. “That’s not me bragging, I promise. Take the truck. If someone tries to hurt one of our friends because the rest of us don’t want you to end up hospitalized, they can go straight to hell.” 

Scott reached up and took the keys from Jackson. “Thanks.” He murmured. “But how does this...” He shook his head. “How is this going to appease the guy?” 

“Pride.” Theo spoke up as he and Lydia joined the others. “Asking for help is something a lot of people won’t do. I might be wrong, but if I’m not, then you getting Jackson’s truck for awhile is something that embarrasses you, right?” 

“Yeah.” Scott mumbled. “No offense, Jackson. I like your truck. It’s just that... it’s not mine, and I don’t like needing handouts.” He couldn’t help feeling sick to his stomach, wondering where Stiles was. It wasn’t like his best friend to avoid him, and Scott couldn’t help wondering if Stiles was responsible for this and was off, laughing about it somewhere. When the warning bell rang, he walked down the hall to homeroom with Lydia. He waved to Danny and started to sit down by him, but Lydia grabbed Scott’s arm and pulled him to a different part of the room. 

“I don’t want to paraphrase Mean Girls at you.” Lydia sighed. “But he can’t sit with us. I know you’re worried about him and want to see if he’s okay, but Boyd and Cora can do that. And if he was really hurt, he wouldn’t be here. So just take comfort in that and get through the day. You can sell your bike at lunch or after school, and then it’s Allison’s turn on Friday. With luck, we’ll have caught this guy before that.” 

“Lydia, why _haven’t_ we gone to Stiles’ dad about this? Just because Stiles said not to? Or...” Scott refused to finish his question, ashamed of himself for thinking that Stiles was to blame. 

Lydia stared at him, her gaze like steel. “Scott, you know better than to think that Stiles would do this to you. You’re scared and freaking out, and it’s impairing your judgment.” She paused, tilting her head. “Impairing your judgment... I think we need to go back through that file that Stiles put together, of anyone who might have been hurt or killed during the past games. This couldn’t have been the first time that people from Beacon Hills played it.” 

“And you think someone might be mad at Stiles for getting through without getting hurt?” Scott guessed. “Um, and the rest of us?” 

Lydia’s steel gaze was back in place. “Have you ever heard of a Freudian slip?” 

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot.” Scott said, instead of answering Lydia’s question and admitting that he had no idea why she wanted to discuss underwear. “And I had a long talk with Jackson about it, and we tried to figure out reasons everyone on the list would do this, and reasons why they wouldn’t have done it. But what if we’re looking at it the wrong way? What if one person on the list didn’t do it because two or three of them... of us... are working together?” 

“Like Allison wanted to make everyone suffer and I told her how?” Lydia guessed. “Or like Stiles let you come up with whatever preliminary punishments you wanted, while he works on something much worse?” 

“Um, yeah, something like that.” Scott sighed, wondering why everyone in his life could have been a character out of a crime novel, while he just wanted the school day to end, so that he could go feed puppies. 

“If that’s the case, then you could also say that Danny, Derek, Cora and Boyd are working together to make the rest of us suffer. Boyd’s in ROTC, after all, and he would have probably known how to rig all of those things to explode at once. And Danny’s good with tech, so he could have _probably_ been controlling the drone himself.” 

“Um, yes?” Scott wondered if Harris had learned some of his intimidation techniques from Lydia, because she was scaring him more than the teacher ever had. 

“I don’t deal in _probably._ ” Lydia scoffed. “I believe in facts, not maybes. If you can prove that Danny injured himself to make a point to Jackson, I’ll slap him right now and convince him to put himself in Stiles’ locker.” She smiled at the mental image of that. “But that’s going to be kind of hard to do, when you’re not able to talk to him.” 

“Yeah, no kidding.” Scott muttered. 

***

“Where the hell were you today?” Scott demanded, walking past Stiles and into his house, after school. 

“Nice wheels.” Stiles remarked, eyeing Jackson’s truck before he closed the front door and turned toward Scott. “Glad to see you, too.” 

“I had to sell my dirtbike.” Scott snapped. “I’m not in the mood for jokes.” 

“I know.” Stiles said calmly. “I saw the ad in the paper. I ditched school today to go hang out with Derek and Cora, who was also ditching. If the Observer goes to school with us, he wasn’t looking for me today, anyway. He was focusing on you. I missed my boyfriend and nobody is going to tell me I can’t see him, just because of their bullshit vendetta.” 

Scott thought back to homeroom, when he and Lydia had discussed the possibility of a smaller group of their friends working together. “Or maybe you were gloating over the fact that Jackson’s not on the lacrosse team anymore, Lydia’s hair is short, and I’m using Jackson’s second vehicle.” 

Stiles’ jaw clenched and he opened the door. “Okay, we’re done here. Get out.” 

“No.” Scott shook his head. “What did you and Derek do all day?” 

“Had sex, then watched Star Wars with Cora.” Stiles scowled. “Do you want to know what positions we used? How long it took me to come? My word isn’t good enough anymore? You want to see splatters now?” 

“You’re so disgusting.” Scott frowned. “I needed you there today and you weren’t there, Stiles. I hate that I had to sell the dirtbike, but I’m relieved that I didn’t have to hurt my mom or something. I cried all through lunch. Like a baby. And while I was having one of the worst days I’ve had since January, you were getting laid?” 

“Okay, weigh it.” Stiles muttered, holding his hands out. “Almost getting murdered.” He wiggled his right hand. “Versus having to sell a dirtbike you earned for rescuing abused animals.” He moved his hands up and down like two sides of a scale. “I’m pretty sure almost getting murdered is a much bigger deal.” 

“What was that, the scales of justice?” Scott snapped. “Stiles, are you the Observer?” 

“Suck my dick, Scott.” Stiles refused to look at his best friend. 

After a long moment of staring at him in disbelief, Scott snorted. “You probably are.” He said quietly. “And you couldn’t face me today, knowing what I was going to have to deal with. What’s Allison going to have to do on Friday?” 

“I don’t know, because I’m _not_ the Observer!” Stiles yelled. “I said get out!” 

“I’m going. If you tell Allison to hurt herself somehow, I’m telling your dad everything.” Scott walked away, flinching when the door slammed shut. It sounded like a gunshot, and he decided that Jackson was right. He needed to talk to a therapist. He called Jackson on speakerphone as he drove toward the clinic. “I asked Stiles if he was the Observer.” He began, when Jackson answered.

“Jesus christ, McCall.” Jackson blurted. “I thought we agreed the other day that it wasn’t him.” 

“That was before he decided to ditch on the day I got my task.” Scott muttered defensively. “He says he was with Derek and Cora all day. He’s not even trying to play by the Observer’s rules, which is another reason why it might actually be him. Stiles just loves to have rules for people that he never follows, himself.” 

“I think Lydia’s right.” Jackson said quietly. “She and I had a talk after lunch, and she thinks that you’re not in the right frame of mind to look into this, anymore. Maybe you should see if you can get a few days off to calm down, okay? You can still use the truck, but I want you out of this. The rest of us can handle it.” 

“Or you’re all in on it.” Scott muttered. 

“Scott.” Jackson was silent for a moment. “I’m going to hang up, and I’m making an emergency appointment for you with my family’s therapist. Don’t laugh at me for having one. We started off with family therapy after my parents told me that I was adopted, to help me adjust to the idea. I’m texting you the address and I want you to go there. She’s only obligated to report it to local law enforcement if you’re a danger to yourself and others, so I think you’ll be all right. Will you promise me to go straight there?” 

Scott sighed. “Yeah, I’ll go. Drive your truck, go to your therapist.” He laughed softly. “Everything is so weird, lately.” 

“Well, that’s kind of expected, when you’ve been targeted by three psychos in about as many months.” Jackson remarked. He hung up. 

Scott pulled over to the side of the road and rested his head on the steering wheel as he started to cry for the second time that day. He hadn’t meant to yell at Stiles and accuse him of trying to hurt everyone, but he was so tired and feeling weak. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve when Jackson texted him, then turned the truck around and drove back toward the office building downtown. 

The office was small. There were two armchairs and a desk in the first room, and Scott had barely sat down in one of them when a woman in a t-shirt and jeans leaned out of the doorway and called his name. 

“You’re not what I expected.” Scott commented, looking around the inner office as he sat down. There was a bright yellow plastic table in one corner of the room, piled high with boxes of Legos and containers of Play-Doh.

“What did you expect?” The woman smiled. “An old man with a pipe and a big couch?” 

“Sort of.” Scott shrugged. 

“I dress casually because I sit down for most of the day. You can call me Lia, by the way. From what I heard from Jackson, you didn’t go looking for a therapist yourself, but he thinks I can help?” 

“Yeah.” Scott murmured. “Um, I’m trying to figure out what I can tell you, because some of it is pretty bad.” 

“If you’re in danger...” Lia began. 

“Well, I am.” Scott said quickly, looking up at her. “But it’s not something you can fix.” 

“I’m not here to fix things, I’m here to help you fix them, yourself.” Lia explained. “Just tell me what you’re comfortable telling me, for now. We’ll go from there.” 

“Okay.” Scott sighed. “Last January, my best friend, Stiles, convinced me to sign up to play this game with him. It was a sort of black market thing. Underground? I’m not sure what the right phrase is, for it. But one of the rules was ‘don’t get the police involved,’ so you can imagine what kind of game it was. And we only played it for about a week before we put a stop to it. It all happened really fast. The first few dares were easy things, like singing a Disney song or standing in an abandoned house for an hour, at night. I mean, it was creepy, but I wasn’t that bothered by it. It was actually sort of nice, being able to hear animals making noise and identify them. I want to be a veterinarian. And then we had a week of not having to do much of anything, because almost everyone playing was a teenager, and we all had school. We all knew that Friday night was going to be when the dares started again, and they were really bad ones. Stiles’ dad is the... he’s a cop. And even though the rules said not to get him involved, Stiles did it, anyway. Because people we knew went missing and we were scared that they had been murdered. My girlfriend had to steal a car, and Stiles said that she should just take my mom’s car, that he would explain everything. But I was sick of the game, so I quit. I went with Allison. My girlfriend. And her aunt held a gun to my head and made us walk into this building with a big freezer in it, and she was going to put me there. Allison was crying and begged her not to. Cold weather messes with my asthma on a good day. Being locked in a freezer really would have killed me.” Scott took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “I’m fine, I just... I’m okay. And her aunt looked happy about it. She said she didn’t care if I died. But Stiles had already gotten there and he had the guard, the uh, guy standing watch over the freezer? He turned it off. And everything was fine, the police were about to come in and arrest Allison’s aunt for kidnapping and attempted murder and a bunch of other things, probably. I don’t know what else. The thing is, Stiles shot her and killed her. And he made it sound like it was self-defense, but it wasn’t.” 

“I see. And his father doesn’t know?” Lia asked. 

“I think he probably does, but it’s... I mean, she wasn’t a good person.” Scott sighed. “But he shouldn’t have done it. Allison hates him for it. She’ll hang around him if everyone else is, but she has nightmares because of what he did. They argue a lot, and he says he doesn’t regret it.” 

“You’re talking a lot about what everyone else said or did, or how they feel.” Lia commented. “But what about you? How do you feel?” 

“I hated the sound of it.” Scott blurted, his fists clenching. “There was no real warning. He started yelling like she was lunging at him, but she wasn’t, and then he shot her. It’s not right to kill people, or hurt them. I like taking care of animals. Defenseless ones that other people are mean to, for no reason. When a scared animal starts trusting people again, and I did that? I feel almost like I’m magic.” He made a face, embarrassed. “It’s like that night, my best friend crossed a line that turned into the Grand Canyon, and I can’t even see him on the other side of it. And that was before this latest thing.” 

“Latest thing?” Lia prompted.

“The game of dares had two categories. You could play, or you could observe. Observers got to make up the dares and donate their own money or rewards as an incentive. Last Saturday, one of my friends got a letter from someone calling themselves The Observer. He or she, since we don’t know who this person is, has started putting ads in the paper for us. It’s our initials and a task we have to do, like a penance. Lydia had to cut her hair, Jackson had to quit lacrosse, and I had to sell the dirtbike I won during the dare game. We already figured out that this person is making us do things that affect our pride. It’s bad enough that we’ve all actually been crying about it, but don’t tell Jackson I said that.” 

“Everything you tell me is confidential.” Lia smiled politely. “You seem like you’re pretty calm about this, though. Jackson indicated that you were having a really difficult time with it.” 

“I am.” Scott nodded. “Today was my day to find out what I had to do, and Stiles wasn’t at school. The Observer said we’re not supposed to talk to some of our friends, and he did it anyway. When Jackson didn’t follow the rules, his best friend got hurt. And it’s not just that. I think Stiles might be responsible. I don’t know what to do, because he hasn’t committed any crimes, if he _is_ the one doing this. Anyone can put an ad in the paper, that’s not illegal. Lydia cutting her hair didn’t injure her. Jackson quitting lacrosse was his decision. I mean, this guy forced Jackson into it, kind of, but I can survive without my bike. It’s just that I needed it, the way Jackson needed lacrosse, the way Lydia kept her hair long... these things are hurting us, emotionally. Mentally.” 

“If your Observer is hurting other people, that counts as a crime.” Lia corrected Scott. “Do you really think that Stiles did this?” 

“I don’t know.” Scott sighed, then decided he should be honest. “Yes. I think he did it. And I told him I thought he did it, too.” 

“How did he take that?” 

“He... this is vulgar, sorry. He told me to suck his dick. Not like... not an actual request or demand, just... it was kind of meant in the same way as ‘shut up.’ That’s all.” Scott stammered. “He told me to get out. But I know he’s capable of this. I don’t know what to think anymore. I barely slept last night because I knew today was my day to have to do something. Jackson thinks I should stay home from school until this is over, but I can’t do that. My grades are already slipping. They’ve been getting worse all semester, ever since...” He gulped. “Ever since I was certain that Allison’s aunt was going to kill me.” 

“You went through a traumatic experience.” Lia began. “I can’t tell you what to do, but if you believe that your friend is dangerous to people around him, you might want to consider avoiding him for awhile. Was there an investigation into what happened to Jackson’s friend?” 

“No, because Danny was okay, and I think the school dismissed it as a prank.” Scott sighed. “I just want my best friend to stop arguing with my girlfriend. I want him to actually be sorry for what he did to her aunt.” 

Lia got up and walked over to a filing cabinet, getting some booklets out and handing them to Scott. “I think you should read these before our next session. When is the next ad?” 

“Friday. For Allison.” Scott shuffled the booklets around in his hands. There was one for PTSD, one for sociopathic behavior, and the third one was how to handle anxiety.

“Then I want you to come here on Friday, at four o’clock. Is that going to interfere with anything?” 

Scott shook his head. “I’ll see you on Friday.” He stood up, looking at the clock. “Um, aren’t these sessions supposed to last an hour? On tv, it’s always an hour.” 

“Maybe once we’ve established a routine.” Lia explained, smiling. “Today was just an introductory visit, so I know what sort of person you are and what you’re dealing with. We can talk more on Friday.” 

“Okay.” Scott agreed. He walked out to the parking lot, automatically looking for his dirtbike before he remembered that he didn’t have it. He got into his borrowed truck and tossed the booklets down onto the passenger seat, eyeing them warily. He knew that two of them were for him and would explain more about what he was dealing with, but he was afraid to read the one on sociopathic behavior, afraid that everything would apply to Stiles and that he would have professional confirmation that his best friend couldn’t be redeemed.

Scott drove out of the lot and was on the way to the clinic when he got close to a red light. He put his foot down on the brake pedal, but nothing happened. Alarmed, he started pumping the brake, closing his eyes as the truck rolled into oncoming traffic. 

***

“Where is he?!” 

“Stiles, you can’t see him right now, he needs to rest.” Scott’s mom protested. “I promise I will call you when he’s well enough.” 

“Not good enough!” Stiles blurted, going into Scott’s hospital room. 

“I give up.” Melissa muttered, walking away from the doorway. 

“You need to leave me alone.” Scott sighed. “Please just go away?” 

“I get that you think I’m doing all of this.” Stiles dragged a chair closer to Scott’s bed, ignoring his protests as he sat down. “But I’m not, I swear to god. I need you to believe me, but I know that you don’t.” He glanced at the monitors, then looked back at Scott. “I don’t care if you never want to talk to me again, okay? I mean, that’s a lie, I absolutely do care. But I can’t force you. When I saw on the news that you had been in a car accident, I almost threw up. I don’t care if you hate me for the rest of your life, okay? As long as there’s a ‘rest of your life’ to have. And I’m going to find this son of a bitch and...” 

“And kill him?” Scott finished, frowning. 

“Yeah, probably.” Stiles nodded. “But I’ve been saying that since Lydia got that first letter. He hurt Danny. He could have killed you. You followed his rules today and he didn’t care, he’s changing them on us to suit his needs. You must not have cried hard enough or something.” He snorted. 

“Why can’t you just go to your dad?” Scott stared at Stiles. “Why do you have to make everything ten times harder?” 

“That’s what he said.” Stiles sighed. “Yeah, humor wasn’t really a good choice, there. If you not following his rules was cause enough for him to try to kill you, me blatantly defying a rule he stated is going to definitely get someone murdered. You’re vulnerable right now, and you’re important to me, even if I’m not important to you anymore.” 

“Damn it!” Scott snapped. “Stop. Is the truck in the impound lot?” 

“Yeah, why?” Stiles sat up, eager to help in whatever way Scott was about to suggest. 

“There are booklets in the front seat, on the passenger side. I went to a therapist. I want you to get them for me and bring them here. I want to read the ones on PTSD and anxiety, but I want you to read the third one. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah.” Stiles stood up. “I shouldn’t be gone more than an hour. What is it, coping with loss?” He smiled sadly. 

“Just go get the books.” Scott looked away from Stiles, footsteps and the door closing being the only confirmation that the other boy had left the room. 

After a few minutes, his mom came in. “Are you all right?” She studied him, taking in the dark circles under his eyes and the way his hands kept clenching. 

“I don’t want Stiles allowed back into my room.” Scott took a deep breath. “He’s going to be back in less than an hour, he said. He’ll have some things for me that I asked him to get, but I don’t want to see him. Can you get a guard to watch my door? If you can’t, then maybe call Jackson or Lydia? I don’t know if they even know what happened to me, so don’t scare them, okay? Erica would just let Stiles in, and I don’t trust Theo, either. I’d ask for Allison, but she and Stiles are at each other’s throats all the time, and he’d probably hurt her and come in here if she was the one telling him to stay away.” 

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Melissa waited, already knowing what the answer was going to be, but she wanted to hear it anyway. 

“No, I’m not doing that. Not yet, at least.” Scott mumbled, his eyes closing from the effect of the pain medication.

“I’ll get you someone from security.” Melissa replied softly and walked away, but she couldn’t bring herself to make the call. “Can you get someone from security to guard room three-twelve?” She asked one of the other nurses. She picked up the other handset, her finger poised over the button that would call the Sheriff’s station before she sighed and hung up. She and Noah couldn’t interfere in arguments all the time. They had agreed, along with Claudia and Rafael, to let the boys handle it on their own, the day that Stiles peed on Scott’s sand castle, at the park. She watched as the guard stationed himself outside of Scott’s door about ten minutes later. Whatever was going on with Scott and Stiles, it was serious this time, and there was nothing she could do. She knew, from past experience, that Stiles wouldn’t give her a straight answer. When her first chance for a break came up, Stiles still hadn’t returned to the hospital - but the hour wasn’t up yet. Melissa nodded to the guard as she passed him, taking the elevator down to the chapel in the basement. Suddenly, she felt like praying.


	4. Allison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My OC therapist, Lia, doesn't exactly use the best techniques to talk to Allison here; before people leave me comments about how "therapists don't do that," I want to mention that I went to a therapist when I was fourteen who seemed annoyed with me because I didn't want to talk about everything that had ever gone wrong in my life, I wanted to focus on good aspects of it. It was a point in my life when I felt pressure to give in to what every adult around me wanted, so it was actually a very toxic environment for me. I felt obligated to talk about negative things, to dwell on them. I was fortunate enough that I realized what was happening, and stopped going after three sessions. Lia may not be an amazing therapist, but her methods work for Allison, for what she needs in that moment.

On Thursday at lunch, Allison sat at a table by herself. She wanted to be with Scott at the hospital, but Scott’s mom had already made her leave twice, and said that if Allison came back a third time, she was going to call security or the Sheriff. Allison was pretty sure calling Stiles’ dad was a bluff, but she didn’t want to find out. In the meantime, she didn’t want to sit anywhere near Stiles. She had managed to talk to Scott for a few minutes, and if Stiles’ own best friend believed that Stiles had cut the brakes and caused Scott to get into an accident, that was good enough for her, even without knowing that Stiles was the kind of person who would shoot and kill someone defenseless. She couldn’t believe she had once told him he was sweet. He was anything but that.

“Bitch.” Erica scowled at Allison as she passed her, carrying her lunch tray over to the usual table. 

Allison sighed, picking at her cheeseburger. She wanted to blame Stiles for all of her other friends refusing to speak to her, too. But she knew they were capable of making their own decisions, and they had decided to choose his side instead of hers and Scott’s. Erica had been calling her names all day, and Lydia looked right through her, and it was all because she had tried to make them see reason. Even if Stiles hadn’t cut the brakes himself, which she thought was most likely, he had spent the day with Derek and Cora. He had violated the Observer’s rules, and Scott had suffered for it. She couldn’t resist glancing toward their table, wondering if she should go apologize. She didn’t want to, but she hated being alone. 

Just as she decided to get up, Erica looked up at her and flipped her off. 

Jackson laughed, and Lydia turned around in her seat and stared at Allison. 

Allison sighed again, lowering her gaze to her tray. She didn’t have to look again to know that Theo was gloating and Stiles was basking in the attention he was getting from everyone, like he was really sorry that Scott had been hurt, and _he_ was the one who needed to be comforted. 

“Is it all right if I sit here?” A guy asked quietly. 

Allison glanced up at him and shrugged. “Free country.” She muttered. “I’m not staying long, anyway. I can go be alone somewhere else and maybe do my homework while I’m at it.” 

“You’re not sitting by yourself if I’m sitting with you.” He smiled hesitantly. “But if you don’t want me to, I can go.” 

“No, whatever.” Allison tore a piece of her cheeseburger and put it in her mouth. “You’d think I would have been used to being by myself, since I didn’t have a lot of friends before I moved here, anyway. Or a boyfriend. I promised myself that I wouldn’t... never mind. Are you new here?” 

He shook his head, laughing. “No, I grew up in this town. I’ve lived here my whole life. You said you have a boyfriend?” 

“Yeah.” Allison said softly. “But he’s in the hospital right now, and all of his friends, I guess, were never really my friends. They hate me.” She pushed her tray aside and stood up. “I have to go. But it was nice meeting you...” She waited for him to introduce himself, but he didn’t seem to understand that. 

“Oh, right. Nice to meet you, too, Allison.” 

It wasn’t until Allison was in the library, a few minutes later, that she realized she had never told him her name. “Okay, now I really am being paranoid.” She muttered. “The Observer is not some random guy that just wanted to sit at the table that’s probably his regular table, anyway.” She told herself. “I’m in six classes and I don’t talk to anyone outside of that circle that hates me now, but that doesn’t mean that other people don’t know my name.” 

“Do you always talk to yourself?” 

Allison jumped, squealing and laughing in embarrassment when the librarian shushed her. She glanced over her shoulder at Matt Daehler. “Ugh, it’s you.” She felt guilty as soon as she said it. He might have been a little bit creepy, but he had left her alone since he was eliminated from the game. “Ignore me, I’m a bitch. Just ask Erica Reyes, she’ll tell you.” 

Matt sat across from her. “I don’t think you’re a bitch.” He smiled. “I think... you’re a good kisser and you’re beautiful.” 

“Oh, please don’t hit on me.” Allison protested. “Scott’s not around, not because we broke up, but because he’s in the hospital. He’s still my boyfriend. It’s just that Stiles’ friends fucking hate me and I don’t want to sit with them.” 

“Would Scott be mad if I sat with you at lunch?” Matt asked, leaning back in his seat and gauging her reaction. 

“Probably.” Allison admitted. “But he doesn’t control me. And I don’t want to sit by myself. It’s humiliating.” 

“Then tomorrow, I’ll have lunch with you. Unless Scott is back by then.” 

“He probably won’t be.” Allison sighed. She didn’t want to talk to Matt about it, but she knew that the guards were staying on Scott’s door until he was released, so she figured he would be safe from Matt trying to taunt him later. “He got into a car accident yesterday, after school.” She felt like she was going to start crying again if she said anything else, so she opened her math book and started on the homework that was due the next day. If she got it all done before the end of the school day, that would give her more time with Scott.

“Lydia’s party is this weekend, right?” Matt asked a few minutes later. 

“What?” Allison glanced up at him. “Yes, but I don’t think I’m going. I don’t feel like celebrating. And even if I did, I would only go as Scott’s date, not yours. So stop trying to angle me in that direction. It’s just not going to happen, okay?” 

“I guess you don’t really want me to sit with you at lunch tomorrow?” Matt frowned. 

“Look, you can sit with me if, and only if, you can do it without hitting on me the entire time. I’m a person. Treat me like one, and maybe we can be friends. And don’t start shit about the friendzone, okay?” Allison snapped. “I just don’t want to deal with people today. I should have stayed home.” 

“Why didn’t you?” Matt looked curious. 

“Because... I don’t know.” Allison mumbled. “At least being at school gives me something to do.” She sat back in her seat and hesitated, turning her pencil around in her fingers. “Were you in the cafeteria when I was? I mean, did you follow me here?” 

“No, I’ve been in the library this whole time. I don’t get hungry until later in the day, so I eat during study hall.” Matt laughed. “And I do my work during lunch.” 

“But you’re not doing work now?” Allison gestured to the table in front of him. 

“Well, I found someone distracting. I know, that wasn’t what you wanted to hear.” Matt said quickly. “But I’m giving you an honest answer.” 

“I can appreciate that, definitely.” Allison muttered. 

***

Allison had torn the ad out of the newspaper, before school on Friday morning. 

_A. A. Brake up with S. M._

She had been angry when she made copies in her dad’s study, but she was still seething as she stormed down the school hallway, to where everyone was gathered around Erica’s locker. “Fuck all of you.” She snapped, too angry to explain herself. She held one of the copies out to Lydia. “Look at this. One of you did this. One of you thinks this is funny. Is this a pun? Stiles, don’t you always use puns?” 

“Yes, but this wasn’t me.” Stiles insisted. 

“Bullshit!” Allison yelled. “You’ve hated me since January, when-” She felt the world tilt, blinking when she realized she had been pushed up against the lockers. Stiles’ hand covered her mouth to prevent her from finishing her outburst. 

“Listen to me.” Stiles spoke quietly. “And look at me. Can you do that? No more screaming and risking getting yourself suspended?” 

Allison glared, getting tears in her eyes. She nodded slowly. 

“Okay.” Stiles lowered his hand from Allison’s face. She kept her gaze on him, afraid to look away. 

“What’s going on here?” Adrian Harris demanded. “Allison, is Stiles bothering you?” 

“Mr. Harris.” Lydia interjected. “Everything is fine, Allison’s just having an anxiety attack because her boyfriend was in a car accident the other day, and Stiles is helping her. Please let him do that.” 

Allison heard Harris yell at someone further down the hall, a few seconds later. 

“I swear to you that I didn’t do this. I would never make jokes about what happened to Scott. I know that you both think I’m behind this, but it’s not me. And he’s been so happy with you, Allison. Okay?” Stiles murmured. “I wouldn’t take that away from him. Remember how you two were arguing about how you kissed Matt to get his money, to stay in the game? We were trying to figure out what happened with Derek and Laura before we knew they were Derek and Laura, yeah? And I told Scott not to give up on you, that you and I have a similar moral code. I know you hate me for what happened at that warehouse. And I’m sorry that you hate me, but I’m not sorry that I did it. I want you to think for a second. Imagine you’re holding a gun on someone who threatened to kill Scott. Imagine it’s whoever cut his brakes. The gun’s in your hand, Allison, and you know that if you don’t pull the trigger, Scott’s dead. Wouldn’t you do it?” 

Allison started crying, putting her head down on Stiles’ shoulder when he moved to comfort her. She heard the warning bell ring and the hallway noise stop altogether, but she couldn’t make herself move. She had spent the last couple of days feeling scared and alone, and she didn’t want to feel that way anymore. “I just want whoever’s doing this to stop. It would have been easier if it was you, since I can’t forgive you for what you did.” She wiped her eyes and stood up straight. 

“Yeah, well, forgiveness is for people who are sorry. I’m not sorry.” Stiles sighed. “I don’t think you should break up with Scott. I don’t want to see anyone else get hurt, but I think we’ve been doing this wrong. Trying to play by rules that keep changing on us isn’t getting us anywhere, so maybe we shouldn’t try. Maybe we should all go to Scott’s hospital room and wait for whoever this guy is to come to us. If he’s pissed off enough, he will.” 

“So he can get us all at once?” Allison shook her head. “I’m going to do the same sort of thing you did, when you called Derek to explain the situation without giving all of the details, except that Scott does know what’s going on. I’ll break up with him, but I’m not doing it permanently. He needs time to recover, anyway. My hanging around isn’t helping him. That’s what his mom keeps telling me, too. So I’ll play by the rules, I’ll get the letter to you, I’ll look for anyone who seems especially smug about my break-up. Matt probably will. He kept bothering me yesterday, after I left the cafeteria. If I had known I was going to run into him, I would have stayed with the guy that sat down at my table, instead.” 

“What guy?” Stiles demanded. “What did he say to you?” 

“Um, nothing? He asked if he could sit with me, I said it was a free country, and then I got sick of Erica glaring at me, so I got up and went to the library.” Allison murmured. “I’m going to make Lydia and Erica come with me into the bathroom, so I can talk about how I’m breaking up with Scott. If word spreads faster through gossip, maybe you’ll have your task tomorrow. Do you think the Observer takes his ads into the newspaper office, or does he email them?” 

“My guess is that he emails them from one of those temporary accounts.” Stiles mused. “And that’s my guess because I already looked into the ads, and the email addresses were untraceable. The ads were paid for with rechargeable credit cards, like the kind you can buy just about anywhere. The truck only had Jackson’s and Scott’s fingerprints on it. It’s like this guy reads true crime novels.” 

Allison frowned. “Doesn’t Theo read true crime novels?” 

“Well, yeah, but so do I.” Stiles muttered. “So does my dad, and at least half of the deputies. You can’t use that as a clue. It would be like saying that anyone buying Halloween makeup is trying to be the next John Wayne Gacy.” 

“Come on.” Allison wiped her eyes again and grabbed Stiles’ wrist, walking down the hall and looking for an empty classroom. “Text everyone else and tell them to come meet us here. This can’t wait, we have to talk. The Observer made us so pissed off at each other and he didn’t even have to do anything. I don’t want to be like that anymore. We need to find him and kick his ass.” 

Stiles sent the text, then watched as Allison wrote all of their names on the board, in the order that they were on the original letter. “Do we have detention?” 

“Stiles, shut up.” Allison muttered, sighing. “Get over here and take this, you’re good at finding connections. Write down the tasks for me?” 

Stiles decided not to make another smart-ass remark as he drew a line to the right of all of their names, then started writing on the other side of it. “Lydia had to cut her hair, Jackson had to give up lacrosse, Scott had to give up his mode of transportation. You have to give up your boyfriend. Maybe it wasn’t about pride in the first place, and we just thought it was? We’re losing things we care about, sure. But why?” He put the cap back on the marker and tapped it against his lips, staring at the board as everyone came in. “We’re not looking at a serial killer, we’re looking at someone who doesn’t want us to die. He wants us to suffer. Or she does. I’m starting to think a girl could be behind this. Or two people, one male and one female.” He moved a few steps to his right and started writing again as he spoke. “No pride in his or her appearance, non-athletic, no vehicle, possibly no license, and single.” 

“In December, that could have described you.” Scott said weakly from the doorway, smiling. 

Stiles glanced up and smiled back, then hesitated. “Yeah, that’s true.” He mumbled. 

Allison hugged Scott carefully. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you still be resting?” 

“I got released about half an hour ago and had a deputy drop me off on the way to the station.” Scott shrugged, then grimaced. “Ow. I should have probably gone home, instead. But I wanted to see you guys.” 

“Well, we’re glad to see you, but you’re incredibly stupid if you don’t go home and rest right now.” Lydia protested. 

“I’m breaking up with you.” Allison blurted. “Not because I want to. I really don’t, but the Observer wants me to. So as soon as we catch him, we’ll be back together. If you want to be.” 

“Why wouldn’t I want to be?” Scott smiled. “I’m going home and taking painkillers, but I want to talk to you later. When you can talk.” He looked over at Stiles. “And I want to talk to you. If you still want to talk to me?” 

Stiles nodded, then turned back to the board. 

Scott’s smile faded and he grimaced. “Oh, wait. I have a thing after school. Therapy.” 

“I’m pretty sure Lia will forgive you if you cancel.” Jackson retorted. 

“No, but I need to talk to her, too.” Scott insisted. 

“Why do you need to talk to everyone?” Erica laughed. “Is this because you’re high on meds?” 

“No, it’s just been way too quiet.” Scott blurted. He looked confused when five heads turned toward Stiles and everyone started laughing. 

***

Allison was exhausted by the time she gave Stiles his letter, at the end of the school day. “I hope he’s watching.” She said quietly. “I hope he slips up and you catch him this weekend.” 

“I was thinking about that.” Stiles glanced around before he spoke again. “I don’t think he spelled ‘brake’ the way he did to fuck with you. I mean, it’s likely, but it’s a commonly misspelled word. So if I could get my hands on some essays, I could maybe find him, that way.” 

“It’s a long shot, though. Isn’t it?” Allison threw Stiles’ earlier words back at him. “You might as well watch people buying Halloween makeup to see if you can spot the next John Wayne Gacy.” 

“Yeah.” Stiles muttered, scratching his head. “Are you and I really okay? Because we’ve been making Scott miserable and I hate myself for that. I don’t even know if he and I are okay, but I don’t want to lose either of you.” 

“We accused you of hurting Danny and trying to kill Scott.” Allison sighed. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that.” She paused. “You know what? I’m going to Scott’s therapy appointment. I mean, for myself.” She hugged Stiles quickly and walked away, calling Jackson. “I need you to set up something for me.” She told him. 

Twenty minutes later, she was seated across from Lia, her gaze sweeping the room. 

“What are you hoping to get out of this?” Lia asked gently. 

“I don’t know, exactly.” Allison stammered. “I’ve been having a rough time these last few months, and I’m sure Scott told you something about what we’ve been going through.” 

“How about if you tell me, yourself?” 

“Sure.” Allison squirmed, trying to get comfortable. “My boyfriend’s best friend murdered my aunt right in front of me two months ago, and all of our mutual friends expect me to just be fine with that. Because he saved some lives that night. But he didn’t. My aunt wasn’t armed. He wasn’t defending himself, he just... murdered her.” She took a deep breath and made a frustrated noise when she got tears in her eyes. “I hate crying!” She blurted, giving the therapist an embarrassed, grateful smile when she was offered a box of tissues. “Um. Anyway. Now some guy is threatening us, but he’s changing his rules and it’s pissing me off. I want to find him and make him suffer. I had a nervous breakdown at school today, and Stiles... that’s my boyfriend’s best friend... he helped me calm down and he didn’t have to do that. It’s hard for me to see him as being a good guy when he’s done bad things. Or, at least, one really bad thing. I don’t want to hate him. But I feel weird about the fact that I hugged him today. Not ‘I have a crush’ kind of weird, just... I’ve been so scared for months and I had to eat lunch by myself yesterday, and I started crying this morning because I finally understood what it felt like to think I was going to lose Scott because someone else got joy out of hurting him. Or killing him.” 

“Would you say that you expected Stiles to only behave a certain way, and the fact that he’s defied your expectations is confusing?” 

“Yeah, exactly.” Allison nodded. “I told him today that I wanted him to turn out to be the Observer because it would have been easier on me, that I can’t forgive him for killing my aunt.” 

“How did he take that?” 

“He said, um, forgiveness is...” Allison tried to remember the exact words that Stiles had used. “Forgiveness is for people who are sorry. And that he’s not sorry.”

“You seem like you agree with that.” 

“I don’t know if I do.” Allison tucked one leg underneath her and thought for a minute. “I mean, I don’t want him to lie to me, just to make me feel better. But I don’t understand why he just... it’s like he never examined his feelings and tried to find sorrow.” 

“So you can see his emotions?” 

Allison stared. “Well, no...” 

“I probably shouldn’t say this, but Scott told me a bit about Stiles the other day, too. I’m starting to think that he had a lot more internal anger than he let on, because the picture you’re painting of Stiles is much different. You’re angry at him, too. And you have the right to feel how you feel. So does Scott. But your anger is mixed with confusion. Scott’s wasn’t. Why do you think that is?” 

Allison hesitated, wondering if she should get up and leave since Scott’s confidentiality had just been violated. “I don’t think you’re a very good therapist.” She said finally. 

“No, probably not, considering I should have contacted the Sheriff about his son’s escalating behavior as soon as Scott left my office, but I didn’t.” 

“What do you want me to say, exactly?” Allison frowned. “Stiles felt like he didn’t have a choice! My aunt and grandfather were murdering people for years and nobody was stopping them. They were insane. My grandfather was yelling that Derek and his family were monsters. He said they were evil.” 

“Isn’t that what Stiles tried to tell you for the past two months?” 

“Um. Yeah.” Allison sighed. “But you still shouldn’t be discussing Scott’s sessions with me, without his permission.” 

“I got his permission before you got here.” 

“I’m not so sure that’s admissible, he’s on painkillers.” Allison muttered. 

Lia laughed. “Allison, you and Scott must be an entertaining couple to watch. He sees everything as black and white, with clear dividing lines, and you have shades of gray, but you keep trying to put everyone there. You came here to ask, in a roundabout way, how you should feel about Stiles’ actions. The mere suggestion that I wanted you to put him here...” She pointed at one corner of the room. “It made you yell at me, tell me he belongs over there.” She pointed in the other direction. “It’s okay to see shades of gray, to not view the world the way Scott does. I think it would be interesting to get you three in a group therapy session. Scott with his black and white, you with your light gray, and Stiles with his - I'm assuming - dark gray outlook. I’m willing to bet that someone else in your circle of friends has a black, very bleak, outlook.” 

“Actually, yes.” Allison sighed, thinking of Derek. “Do you... is that it? Am I cured?” 

“Therapy isn’t really a cure, it’s more like a treatment. But if you feel like you don’t want to come back, you don’t have to. I hope that this was enough to make you see that when you start feeling conflicted about someone or something, you can change your mind pretty easily, just from someone pointing out that there’s more than one way to feel. You don’t need me for that, you can do it for yourself.” 

“Is that the Mr. Miyagi approach?” Allison smiled tensely. “Thanks for your time. I don’t think I’m coming back.” She walked outside, calling Lydia as she got into her car. “Hey, am I still invited to your birthday party?” 

“Allison, why are you wasting my time with stupid questions?” Lydia muttered. “Change your clothes, do something cute with your hair, and get over here.” 

Allison laughed. “Lydia, do you see the world in black and white?” 

“No, I see it in full color. Jackson, I’m on the phone, obviously. Go blow up balloons.” Lydia hung up. 

Despite what she feared might be ahead, Allison knew that tonight would be fine.


	5. Stiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And somehow, the most talkative character in TW canon gets the shortest chapter in this story!

_S. S. Punch Mr. H on Monday._

Stiles stared at the newspaper on Saturday, baffled. He wasn’t sure what his task had to do with the Observer. Everyone knew that Harris hated almost all of the students, and the feeling was mutual. But hitting him was a guaranteed expulsion, possibly time in jail. Their taskmaster wasn’t an expelled student, since that would have given no access to finding out if the tasks had been completed. It also stood out that the initials for Stiles were incorrect. 

He looked around his living room. Scott was still at home, resting. Derek, Boyd, Cora and Danny were continuing to stay away. Everyone else was looking up at him, waiting. 

“We know it’s not a teacher or another faculty member.” Stiles said finally. “Because they would have used my actual initials.” 

“Unless they’re trying to mess with you.” Theo muttered. “But maybe. What does this give you in common with the Observer, though?” 

“If my dad has to arrest me, I lose his respect.” Stiles sighed. “Not to mention I probably get jail time. This guy doesn’t seem like he gives a shit about going to prison, since he was willing to cut the brakes on Jackson’s truck, and he could have killed Scott.” 

“I think he doesn’t believe you’ll find him.” Theo mused. “He thinks he’s invisible. Untouchable.” 

“Well, so does Stiles.” Allison gave him an apologetic look. 

“You’re not really wrong.” Stiles tapped his fingers against his legs, thinking. “But all of this shit he’s doing, he wants to be noticed by us. So I think, after all this time, we can really rule out everyone on the list.” 

“It’s been a week.” Lydia reminded Stiles. 

“Okay, but it feels like longer, since Scott and Danny got hurt and the rest of you were tortured emotionally.” Stiles sat down on the floor. He felt agitated, and more restless than usual. “He’s not done, either. We’ve got another week of this, and then it starts again. Why two things, though? Why not seven? Seven deadly sins.... Is there an order to those?” 

“Not really.” Lydia shook her head. “But there’s pride, wrath, gluttony, sloth, greed, lust, and...” She paused, counting on her fingers. “Envy.” 

“And there’s seven of us.” Stiles murmured. “So I think this guy picked pride because we’re all prideful, but our second round of things, we’ll each have one sin. It would help if we could stay ahead of him and figure out who has what, you know? It’ll give us a better idea of what we’re facing. That is, if I'm not in prison for assault. As often as I’ve thought about hitting Harris, I can’t do it. Where does that leave me, do you think? Dead? In a coma?” 

“Can’t you count it as a loophole that he got your initials wrong?” Theo suggested. 

“If it wasn’t for the list, I would.” Stiles admitted. “But everybody knows he meant me, it doesn’t matter if he addressed it to ‘M. S.’ or ‘S. S.’ or ‘the fucking asshole whose turn it is.’” He snorted. “I have an idea, but none of you are going to like it.” 

“Oh christ, here we go.” Jackson muttered. “What is it this time?” 

“I’m going to yell out in the hallway on Monday morning, telling the Observer that I refuse to do it, he might as well punish me right away because I’m not changing my mind. He wants people to notice him, he’s got it. Everyone’s going to be asking each other if they’re the Observer I was talking about. Most of them know about the dare game. That’s just part one. Part two is more like part one, I guess, since I’m going to the school today to get started on it. It’s going to take a while to leave notes in every locker, daring people to do all of the tasks that we’ve had to do already.” 

“You’re creating chaos.” Theo smiled slowly. “To piss him off. These things aren’t for everyone, he designed them for us. You’re spitting on his convictions.” 

“You’re fucking right, I am.” Stiles nodded. “I can’t punch Harris if someone gets there before me. And I think I’m going to make it a little more fair, in a way? Not ‘punch Harris,’ but ‘punch a teacher.’ I mean, if I get caught, I can be in a shitload of trouble for inciting a riot, but...” 

“That’s a five year prison sentence.” Jackson held his phone up to show Stiles. “Assault is four months to fifteen years, though. But it’s only inciting a riot if you advocate violence. Leave Harris out of it and you’re in the clear.” 

“Hold on.” Lydia shook her head at them. “Leaving a slip of paper in someone’s locker with the words ‘Punch Mr. Harris’ doesn’t qualify as inciting a riot. Telling a group of ten or more angry people to attack him with baseball bats would be inciting a riot. If anyone tried to use it as a defense that a note in their locker told them to hit a teacher, they’d probably be subjected to a psychiatric evaluation. I don’t like the idea of you doing this, but it might be enough to draw the Observer out of hiding. We should text Danny and see if he can put surveillance equipment in our lockers, in case we get another letter from him in one of our lockers, and we can see who leaves it.” 

“Print the papers out at school. They’ll trace it back to the school printers and they won’t get anywhere, with that. And we’re going to have to walk to the school from here and go in through the locker room doors, in the back.” Theo stood up. “We might as well get started, we have to leave a note in every single locker.” 

“Does anyone else think he’s way too into this?” Stiles looked around the room, amused. 

“Hey, we’ve been passive as hell until now.” Theo protested. “I want to find this guy before it’s my turn, and I’m next. If this prevents me from even having a turn, I’m for it.” 

“Same here.” Erica nodded, raising her hand. 

***

On Monday, Stiles waited until just before the warning bell, when he knew everyone would be in the hallways, and most of them were whispering about the dare notes in their lockers. “Hey!” He called out. “I have a message for the Observer. The message is that you can take your punishment and shove it up your ass, I’m not playing your game anymore. You’ve had your fun, almost killed my best friend, and I fucking quit.” The bell rang, punctuating his words, and Stiles looked at his friends and shrugged before he went to homeroom. All he could do now was wait. 

“Do you think it worked?” Erica looked hopeful. “I don’t know what I’m going to have to do, if it didn’t work. What if he makes me induce a seizure in myself? It’s not really something I’m proud of at all, but it’s pride that... god, how do I phrase this the right way? It’s my illness and I hate being made fun of, for it. I can’t help it that flickering lights can fuck me up. And I can’t think of anything else that I’m prideful about. I’ve been texting Boyd because I want him to know that I still like him, that I haven’t forgotten that he exists. But I don’t want to be seen with him here, I don’t want that guy to kill Boyd just because I wanted a hug or a kiss. Anyway. What do you think Theo’s proud of?” She glanced toward the other side of the room, where Theo was reading a book. 

“He works out a lot.” Stiles leaned back in his seat and stretched his legs out in front of him. “He reads a lot, too. I don’t know how that would matter to the Observer, though. He’s never really said more than he wants us to know. Maybe that’s it, maybe he’ll have to tell us something he doesn’t want to tell us?” 

“A bunch of people just took turns hitting Mr. Harris!” Someone in the hallway yelled. “You should have seen it, it was amazing.” 

Stiles grimaced, glancing from Erica to Theo. This wasn’t at all what he wanted, but he knew they wouldn’t trace the notes back to anyone in their group. They had even worn gloves to prevent fingerprints from getting on any of the lockers, on Saturday. 

Their homeroom teacher dismissed them early, and Stiles went back to his locker, opening it carefully and checking the camera inside. It hadn’t picked up anything, so he shrugged to himself and put it back. It was still early in the day, anyway. It wasn’t until he glanced down at the floor of his locker that he saw the mess the Observer had left there for him, and he gagged. Dead chickens, whole and without feathers, were piled up. He didn’t have to count them to know that there were seven. He would have been impressed by how quickly they had been procured and shoved in his locker, if it wasn’t for the fact that they smelled terrible. 

Erica covered her nose. “Go tell the principal and get the janitor. Use Scott’s books today, he won’t care. He’s not here.” 

Stiles nodded, grimacing and shutting his locker door. He opened Scott’s locker, right beside his, and felt even more confused and angry than he had at the sight of his own locker. Somehow, the walls of Scott’s locker were covered in ice. The books had been carefully wrapped in plastic to keep them protected, but Stiles was in a rage. He slammed Scott’s locker door shut. “Fuck this.” 

“Where are you going?” Erica hurried to catch up to Stiles. “Hey, slow down, okay? Stiles!” 

Stiles stopped mid-stride and turned toward Erica. “The Observer iced Scott’s locker. This isn’t something that could have been done in five minutes, it took days to get it like that. And it wasn’t for Scott. It was for me. Everybody in this school knows that if something’s wrong with my locker, I’m going to use Scott’s. This was planned days in advance, which means that he knew that I wasn’t ever going to even consider hitting Harris. You know how he’s fucking with _my_ pride? I don’t know who the fuck he is!” 

“You don’t know everything.” Erica said softly. “It’s okay that you don’t know.” 

Stiles shook his head. “I have to get out of here. I’ll copy the letter over and leave it for Theo in his locker. Just watch. Tomorrow? Theo’s initials are going to be in the newspaper, along with whatever he has to do.” 

***

A couple of hours later, Lydia knocked on Stiles’ front door and gestured to everyone behind her, including their friends who they weren’t supposed to spend time with. “If the Observer can break his own rules, we don’t have to follow them. We’re going to sit down and watch a movie or two, and just forget about this guy.” 

“Okay.” Stiles agreed quietly. He moved out of the way to let everyone in, laughing when Derek grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him out on to the front step for a kiss. “I have really, _really_ missed you.” He sighed, putting his arms around Derek’s waist. 

“You saw me on Wednesday, you clingy weirdo.” Derek teased. His expression turned serious. “Are you really all right?” 

Stiles shook his head. “I keep waiting for him to slip and fuck up, but the thing is? He probably already has, and I haven’t seen it because I don’t know anything about him. How do you fight a villain you can’t even see?” 

“Invisible villains?” Derek smiled playfully, hoping he could lighten Stiles’ mood. “Dump baby powder on their heads, throw a blanket over them, splatter them with paint.” 

Stiles’ lips twitched and he put his head down on Derek’s shoulder. “That’s not even close to what I meant, you asshole.” He was quiet for awhile, closing his eyes “My dad’s working a double tonight, and I want you to stay over. I want everyone to stay over, but I want to fall asleep beside you because I haven’t done that in a couple of weeks and I’m tired of crazy people trying to run my life.” 

“Okay, then that’s what we’ll do.” Derek nodded. “I think we can skip the movie marathon, if you want to. You look exhausted.” He opened the front door, keeping an arm around Stiles’ waist and lifting him, holding him against his side as he walked up the stairs. He knew it was awkward, but when Stiles laughed about it, he didn’t care.


	6. Theo

Theo sat silently, his back against the seat of the couch and his legs stretched out in front of him. He wasn’t really interested in the movie that was on, and half of the people in the living room were asleep. He smiled fondly at Lydia, then stood up, stepping over arms and legs to get to the kitchen. He had liked Lydia for a while, but he hadn’t managed to tell her that until she was distraught, and sometimes he felt guilty for that. He knew he hadn’t really taken advantage of her, but he could have chosen a better time to tell her how he felt. 

He opened a bottle of water and sat at the kitchen table, taking a drink. Everyone else seemed certain that his judgment day was tomorrow, and he didn’t see any reason why their assessment would be wrong. He just wasn’t sure what the Observer was going to make him do. Theo had never really seen himself as prideful. He worked out to stay healthy, because he had a heart transplant as a child and he had promised himself that he wouldn’t let it go to waste. He didn’t own a lot of things. Other teenagers collected books, jewelry, music. Theo didn’t. He went to school, came home, did his homework, made himself dinner, did the dishes, and read until it was time for him to sleep. The books were all from the library, and he just hadn’t seen a need to purchase them when he finished reading one he liked, since it would just gather dust. He never invited anyone over because he didn’t see his room as a place to hang out. He slept, read and changed his clothes there, and that was it. The Observer couldn’t know what Theo did or didn’t have at home, since nobody knew. He’d been dating Lydia for a little more than a week now, and he hadn’t even invited her over. He wondered if that was strange. 

“What are you doing in here?” Lydia asked sleepily, sitting down beside Theo. 

“Just thinking about tomorrow.” Theo put his arm around her. “Why don’t you go ahead and sleep? I’m probably going to be up for another few hours.” 

Lydia lifted her head to kiss her boyfriend. “Maybe I can help you think. It’s about the Observer, isn’t it?” 

“Yes. I don’t know what he thinks he could even have on me. I don’t really talk to anyone except you guys. The only other person I ever spoke to at school was Meredith, and that was just to get her money from the game. You guys gave me the idea.” Theo admitted. “It’s not even like I’m shy, I just don’t see the point in trying to make a lot of friends. I’m polite to the lunch ladies, I answer questions in class, I participate in gym. I don’t do drugs, I don’t have a criminal record. I’m sure I sound really boring right now.” He smiled. 

“No, you sound like a great guy, and one I’m lucky to be in a relationship with.” Lydia reached for Theo’s hand. “We’re not going to know until tomorrow morning what you have to do, and we don’t have to worry about it until then.” She stood up, trying to pull his chair back from the table. 

“What are you doing?” Theo laughed. “Hold on, I don’t want to run over your feet or something.” He waited until she was out of the way, then pushed his chair back from the table. 

Lydia smiled and sat down on Theo’s lap. “Just relax for the rest of the night. We don’t have anything else to do but sit here and talk. Tell me something about you that nobody else knows.” 

Theo smiled back at Lydia. “I want to be a doctor.” He said softly. “I had heart surgery when I was a kid, and the idea that I can save lives like someone saved mine? I want to do that. I’m not optimistic enough to think I can find a cure for cancer, but there are so many options, if I go to medical school. If this Observer ever backs off.” 

“ _When_ you go to medical school.” Lydia nodded to Theo. “I’m planning on MIT. I’m sure you can find a great medical school nearby.” 

“We’re sophomores.” Theo said gently. “I don’t want to offend you. But how can you be so sure that you’ll still want me in two years, when we’re seniors?” 

“Because you’ve never looked at me like I was stupid, or like I’m some kind of goddess.” Lydia kissed Theo. “I’ve never had to play dumb to get your attention, and I’ve never been embarrassed about having the wrong answer around you, and not just pretending I thought an obviously wrong answer was the right one. I wasn’t so sure about you when the game was happening, but you went straight to Stiles and asked him what was going on, and you could have tried to kill him. Or not just tried. I can’t claim to be psychic.” She shook her head, smiling. “But right now, I don’t see any reason why we would need to break up.” 

“Then let’s never find a reason.” Theo laughed. “Do you want me to see if I can find some blankets or pillows?” 

“No.” Lydia teased.”I’ll take care of that. All you have to do is go lay down in the living room and I’ll be right there.” 

Theo watched her get up and leave the room, and he sealed the cap back on his bottle of water and carried it into the living room, laying down on his side on the floor.

Lydia carried an armload of things over to him, tossing the pillows onto the floor and spreading a blanket out, covering him with it before she laid down beside him and tugged the rest of the blanket over herself. She reached for a pillow and pulled it under her head, turning to face him. “Maybe tomorrow, after the Observer’s message is something like ‘I give up,’ we can go to my house? Or your house.” 

Theo felt dread coursing through his veins. “We could.” He wrapped his arms around Lydia and pulled her close, hoping to distract her before she could ask him what his house was like. He wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. He knew exactly what the Observer was going to have for him tomorrow, and he felt scared for the first time in years. 

***

_T. R. Have a party and invite everyone you know._

Theo shuddered, unable to hide his reaction. “I can’t do this.” He looked up at his friends. “I’m sorry. I don’t want anyone to get hurt, but he actually found the one thing I just can’t handle.” 

“What’s wrong with your house?” Cora scoffed. “Is it a burned down mess in the woods? We could be twins.” 

“No.” Theo closed his eyes and lowered his head, knowing it was ridiculous, that everyone could still see him, even though he couldn’t see their reactions. “Okay, listen. I live by myself. And while that sounds like some kind of perfect life for someone our age, it’s not. Nobody knows. Well, now you guys do, and the Observer does. I’ve actually lived alone since we were kids.” He took a deep breath in and exhaled. “If someone finds out, I’ll have to go to foster care. My parents aren’t dead or anything. When I was nine, they told me that they had me to try to make their marriage work, but it hadn’t been successful. That, uh, I’m a failure. And that they had taken care of me because I was sick, but with a new heart and proof that I was healthy, I... I was on my own. They decided to split custody of my sister, the kid they _actually_ wanted. So I get up, get ready for school, go and come back, do my homework, clean up after myself, and sleep. And then I do it all again, the next day. I know it sounds crazy. I heard about the game and signed up because I thought the extra money could go toward college.” 

Lydia put her hand on Theo’s shoulder. “I’m not saying that I don’t believe you.” She stared at him. “But how did you do everything by yourself?” 

Theo smiled sadly. “It wasn’t easy. I spent a lot of time with my friends, when I could. I had breakfast before school at one kid’s house, got food from other kids at lunch, and dinner was kind of the same thing as breakfast. I used to keep charts of which houses I had been to, so that I didn’t repeat any house too often. When I got old enough to buy my own food without suspicion, I just did that, instead. And then in seventh grade, we learned about vegetation and farming, and I kind of got a garden growing in my back yard, so I didn’t have to worry about food as much.” 

“But...” Erica sighed. “Where did you get the money for food? I can’t imagine having to live like that. I can’t see nine-year-old me, with epilepsy, trying to survive on her own. This sounds like something out of a story. I’d say no offense, but.. Well, Lydia might believe you. I don’t.” 

“Come to my house after school today.” Theo didn’t really want anyone to ever see his house, but he wasn’t going to let the Observer scare him. 

***

Theo unlocked his front door and turned toward everyone before he opened it. “Please take your shoes off before you get to the carpet.” He smiled in embarrassment. “I’ll show you around, but there’s not much to the place.” Inside the house, he waited for everyone to follow his instructions before he spoke again, trying not to look at Lydia at all because he thought for sure she would be looking at him with pity. “The living room is here.” He pointed to the barren front room, where he had vague memories of a tv stand and movies. “The kitchen is through that doorway. You can see that in a minute.” He felt like a tour guide as he led the way to his bedroom. “This is it, the only furniture in the house.” 

Lydia stared at the mattress on the floor, much too small for someone Theo’s age. She looked up at her boyfriend. 

“Please don’t do that.” Theo glanced at Lydia, then looked away again. “I’m okay, Lydia.” 

“This isn’t _okay_.” Lydia protested. “Okay is a couch and a tv from a pawn shop, and being fortunate that you don’t have bedbugs or something.” She looked around at their friends, then walked away to the kitchen. He only had one plate, one bowl, one fork. One of everything that a little boy would deem important, and an older boy wouldn't know any better than. She felt heartbroken for this person she was only beginning to get to know and wondered if his parents had left these things for him, or if he had somehow acquired them by himself. She wandered back through the house, finding everyone in one of the empty bedrooms. “Tell me again.” She looked up at him. “Tell me all of it?” 

Theo sighed. “I was nine when they left.” He looked around the room, speaking softly about remembering sitting on the bed that had once been in here, asking his parents what he was supposed to do while they were gone. ‘You’ll manage,’ his mother had told him. ‘Now get off the bed so we can put it in the truck, Theo.’ “They probably thought that I’d make it two days at most, and then I’d be in foster care. But I didn’t want to go to foster care.” 

“Did you steal?” Stiles tucked his hands in his back pockets, his mind wandering. 

“A few times. I just told myself that this was my normal now, that I could make it on my own if I was careful. I know you’re all thinking ‘but what about...’ and a dozen different things.” Theo smiled sadly. “I only had to answer to myself. I could have, and probably should have, gone to anyone and said that my parents had left me. But if my own parents didn’t want me, who else was going to? I never took more than five dollars from someone, at a time. Mostly, I stole change, and only when I had to. I couldn’t use a lawn mower and I didn’t have one anyway, so when the grass got too tall, I cut it with scissors.” He laughed, dragging his forearm across his eyes. “When dandelions grew in the yard, I ate them.” He made a face. “Not one of my best decisions.” 

“How did you afford gas and electricity? Water?” Erica shook her head. “I just keep thinking that your parents are going to come home in a second and be like, ‘this was a fun prank,’ or that you dragged us to an abandoned house and yanked the sign out of the yard.” 

Theo stared at Erica. “People pay for that?” 

Allison’s mouth opened and she made a squeaking sound, then rushed forward and hugged Theo. “I know this is kind of rude of me, that you don’t want anyone’s pity. I’m just... so sad for you. And happy, because someone’s been taking care of you this entire time and you didn’t even know it.” 

“You need to pay utility bills.” Scott explained gently. “So if you had no idea about that, then yeah, someone else was looking out for you.” 

“Like who, the Observer?” Theo looked doubtful. “He wouldn't be a very good person if he’s cutting brake lines and throwing dead chickens into lockers.” 

“Ix-nay on the ickens-chay.” Stiles muttered. 

“Dead chickens?” Scott repeated, turning to stare at Stiles. 

“I didn’t want you to know!” Stiles blurted. “You’ve got enough to deal with, and that smell is already gone. Anyway, we can add one more thing to this list of traits for the Observer. Bad family life. Maybe we should start looking up people in foster care? Or people who should be. In the meantime, we’re going to have a party for you.” He told Theo. “A housewarming party. Where we bring you things that should be in here, that aren’t. I sound like an asshole, but... seriously, this is depressing.” 

Theo looked around at everyone else, sighing when they all nodded back at him, in agreement with Stiles. “Okay.” He mumbled. “But for now, I want to be by myself. Please. I have a lot to think about.” 

“You sure you don’t want me to stay?” Lydia tried not to feel hurt. She needed to be alone once in a while, too. But she was just getting to know Theo as a whole new person and she was fascinated by him. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Theo didn’t want Lydia to get the wrong idea, so he kissed her, giving her a pleading smile. “Okay?” 

“Okay.” Lydia nodded. She followed the rest of their friends outside. 

***

On Friday night, Theo was trying to avoid his friends, which wasn’t easy. The house pretty small, and everyone was wandering in and out, bringing in a lot of furniture that Theo wasn’t even sure he _wanted_ , but he was too freaked out to tell them to back off. He heard hushed whispers in the living room, and he tried to stay in the kitchen as long as he could, but he wanted to put his arms around Lydia and talk to everyone. He walked into the living room, feeling like he was facing a firing squad as everyone immediately stopped whispering. 

“Hey.” Lydia smiled nervously. “If you don’t like anything in here, we’ll get rid of it.” She said quickly. “But just... at least come see it all?” She pointed toward the sofa. “This was at my grandmother’s lake house, but my mom was talking about selling the place. I also brought over the record player from there, but if you don’t want it, I’ll take it to my house. It was my grandmother’s.” She rolled her eyes at herself. “Obviously. And the tv is from Jackson’s house. The tv stand is from Derek and Cora. They built it from parts of their old house. Did you see the table in the kitchen?” 

Theo nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. He was grateful to everyone for what they had done, but he was also angry and he was trying to make sense of how he could be both things at once. He felt like he was nine years old all over again. 

“It’s my computer table.” Stiles explained. “But I don’t need it, because I can use my laptop anywhere else in my house. Actually, I haven’t used it much since the game. I’ve got residual paranoia.” He snorted, shrugging. 

“Paranoia isn’t residual.” Lydia frowned at Stiles. 

“Semantics.” Stiles muttered. “Literally nobody cares about this. Just you.” He grinned at her. 

Lydia turned back to Theo. “Moving on... the plates and silverware. We couldn’t agree on what to give you, and we thought you might not appreciate us buying you an entirely new set of something. So everyone brought over one or two things from their houses. Now, when we come over to spend time with you, we’ll use our own dishes. We bought you a new mop and broom, though. We couldn’t find a way around that.” 

Theo laughed, rubbing his eyes. “Okay.” 

“Do you want to see the bathroom and the bedrooms?” Lydia asked quietly. 

Theo shook his head. “Not right now.” He pulled her close, closing his eyes. “Thank you.”

Lydia brought her arms up to hug Theo, frowning to herself. She wasn’t sure what to think. People were usually more eager to see the kind of work she put into decorating or rearranging things, or buying someone a new outfit. “Are you okay with this, really?” 

“I’m pissed off.” Theo blurted, pulling away to look at Lydia. “I’m happy and pissed off. It’s probably just too much, too fast. It’s... it’s hard, doing everything for myself all the time... or at least, I thought I was... and then having people come in and take care of me. It makes me feel weak. Like I’m less of a person.” 

“That’s backwards.” Lydia protested. “You were treated so badly by your family and you survived and learned how to take care of yourself.”

“Just not how to pay bills.” Theo muttered. 

“Theo!” Lydia snapped, frustrated. “Look around you. Nobody else here would have been capable of doing what you did. We’re not doing this to say you can’t handle living on your own, we’re doing this because you don’t have to anymore. We aren’t your biological family, but we _are_ your family. If you want us to be.” 

Theo cleared his throat, embarrassed that everyone was staring at him, waiting for his reaction. He thought about how he had felt when he got the text message, telling him to kill Stiles for more money than he had ever seen in his life, and how he had known it wasn’t the right thing to do, even as he was calculating how many meals he could buy with it. “Wait.” He glanced at Stiles, wondering if it was all right to tell everyone what kind of brother they were trying to fully adopt into their group. When Stiles nodded, he gave Lydia an apologetic look and took a step back from her. He didn’t need the space, but he thought she might, when she heard that he wasn’t as pure of heart as she kept making him sound. “When I got the text... the dare to kill Stiles, I didn’t just go to his house to talk to him about it. I told him to explain why people wanted him dead and that I would decide, after he explained, whether or not I was going to follow through. That’s why Stiles thought I might be the Observer. If you hate me for telling him that, I understand. I wouldn’t blame you for it. I just want all of you to know the kind of person you’re trying to shower with gifts and how I don’t think I deserve any of it. I didn’t earn it.” 

“Who the hell said you had to earn it?” Jackson frowned. “You had a kid-sized mattress on the floor and practically nothing else in this house. If it hadn’t been for whoever’s been keeping the utilities paid for, you probably would have died years ago.” 

“Jackson!” Lydia sighed. “Tact, you asshole. Look it up.” 

“We put a bed from Jackson’s guest house in your room.” Scott said quickly, trying to talk over the argument that was happening behind him. 

“I know you don’t want to answer questions, but I still have some. How do you have a cell phone? Do you have a job? Where did you get clothes when you needed them?” Stiles demanded. 

Theo eyed his girlfriend and her ex, deciding that they weren’t going to stop arguing anytime soon. He motioned for Stiles and Scott to follow him over to the couch and sat down. “The cell phone was something I stole last Christmas, but I started getting them when I was twelve. I haven’t wanted to, but I knew I was going to need it at some point, like for a contact number for school. I mow lawns. I don’t have my own mower, but I use other mowers. I shovel snow, too. I buy clothes when I can. I don’t have a whole lot, but I fake it by wearing plain t-shirts and jeans. When you do that, people don’t pay as much attention. Do you know who’s been paying my bills? You seem like you would know.” 

Stiles shook his head. “I tried to look into it. Somehow, your water bill is paid every month. I can’t check the accounts for your gas and electric, since those aren’t town accounts. It doesn’t give information, for the water bill, regarding who pays it. Just that it’s been paid. But I can keep an eye on things when it’s due again and tell you.” 

Theo nodded. “Yeah. Thank you.” 

Erica sat down on the couch with them, wriggling between Stiles and Scott. “I just wish this was over with. I don’t want a turn. And Theo’s pride wasn’t really, horribly affected.”

“Yes, it was.” Theo muttered. “In so many ways. But it could have been worse. I could have lost my girlfriend or gotten shoved into foster care.”


	7. Erica

Erica wasn’t very surprised when she woke up in the hospital, the taste of blood in her mouth and every muscle aching. She pressed the button on her bed to help her sit up slowly. She closed her eyes as the bed adjusted. “Please turn the light off.” She said weakly. “And then get the fuck out of here.” 

“I’m not going to do that.” Stiles shook his head. His eyes were red-rimmed, as though he had been crying. It made Erica even more pissed off about her situation. 

“You don’t get to be sad.” Erica muttered. “Because I’ve been dealing with this since I was a toddler. I get it, your brain is kind of fucked up, too. But if you have a problem, you lose focus and what, get a little twitchy? I get _twitchy_. I have no control over my own body when I get stressed out. I’m kind of surprised that this didn’t happen sooner. I would love nothing more than to be a normal girl and think about stupid shit that doesn’t really matter, like what I’m going to wear to a school dance, but the lights and the music can cause problems for me. I’ve never been to a concert. My parents won’t let me learn to drive. People look at me and see someone who was born broken.” She took a deep breath. “I’m going to get myself all worked up again and then you get to watch me urinate on myself. Is that what you came here for?” 

“I came here with you in the ambulance.” Stiles said gently. “You were reading your notice.” He hesitated. “In the newspaper.” 

“Oh.” Erica rubbed her forehead. “Seizures make me a little scrambled. Tell me what happened.” 

“I don’t think I should. I don’t want to risk you losing control of yourself like that, again. It was scary.” Stiles moved his chair closer to her bed. 

“You’re worse than my parents.” Erica grumbled, but she felt a little relieved that he didn’t want to talk about it right away. “You’ll tell me in a little while, right? Once someone checks on me and says I’m fine?” 

“Yes, I’ll tell you.” Stiles smiled faintly. “Only because I know you won’t leave me alone until I do. We were sitting in Theo’s house, having breakfast, when you read the paper and muttered a _lot_ of swear words. Then you were shaking and Allison was freaking out and I had to get you out of your chair and laying on the floor, on your side. Scott called for an ambulance. I came here with you and answered the questions that the EMTs had. Your vitals were okay. Not great, though. And they kept trying to ask you questions, but it was like you just weren’t all there.” 

“Did Boyd see? Did I wet myself?” Erica asked softly, embarrassed. 

“He had already left, to take care of his siblings.” Stiles explained. “And you didn’t pee.” 

Erica stared at him in disbelief. “Stiles.” 

“Okay, there was pee.” Stiles snorted. “But so what, you know? Scott peed the bed until he was eight. Lydia pretended to be stupid to make people like her, like her intelligence was some sort of social handicap. Theo grew up an orphan, Jackson hides behind his money, I can’t even stay still in my sleep. Derek hates talking, Cora hates people, Allison’s socially stunted. Danny... um. Huh.” 

Erica giggled. “You can’t find a flaw in Danny, can you?” 

“He... hold on, I’ll think of something.” Stiles muttered. “Oh! He has a tendency to date assholes. Case in point, he had a crush on Matt Daehler.” 

“Well, that’s just gross.” Erica smiled. “I noticed you didn’t mention anything wrong with Boyd.” 

“Hey, do I look insane or stupid to you?” Stiles reached for Erica’s hand. “Are you relaxed enough to hear what the ad said?” 

Erica tightened her grip on Stiles’ hand. “Yeah, tell me.” 

Stiles got a folded slip of paper out of his pocket with his free hand, holding it out to her. “I read it a few times, while I waited for you to wake up. Congratulations, by the way. I’m your brother, if anyone asks.” 

“I think you meant ‘condolences.’” Erica teased. She let go of his hand and smoothed the paper out, taking a couple of deep breaths before she read over the Observer’s message for her. 

_E. R. Go to the rave tonight._

Erica stared at the paper, her eyes wide. “Stiles, I can’t do this. I’ll just have a seizure when I get in there. Everyone is going to laugh at me. I don’t need that.” 

Stiles stood up, taking the paper and putting it back into his pocket. “I have a plan.” 

“You can’t go screaming at someone in a building that’s going to have music playing so loudly, Finstock’s dead grandma can hear it.” Erica smiled when Stiles laughed. “What’s the plan?” 

“He wants justice, he’s getting it.” Stiles smiled slowly. 

***

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked Erica, a few hours later.

“If you ask me that one more fucking time, I will take this blindfold off and have a seizure and aim my urine stream at your shoes. Dick or not, I’ll do it.” Erica snapped. “I can’t see anything and I can barely hear. What if he counts this as cheating?” 

“Fuck what he thinks.” Stiles murmured. “He didn’t say how you had to be dressed, and a lot of other people are in costume things. Seriously, I saw a Pikachu a minute ago.” 

Erica laughed. “Take a picture for me. Take a lot of them.” 

“I will.” Stiles nodded to Boyd, then stepped away from Erica and let her boyfriend guide her into the warehouse. 

Erica was dressed as Lady Justice, complete with a long white scarf that Lydia had wrapped around her eyes a few times and tied behind her head. She felt awkward in the white dress she was wearing, but she didn’t have time to think about that when she was guided forward and heard the music, so loud that the floor shook a little. She tightened her grip on Boyd’s hands, whimpering. “It feels like I’m in one of those movies where I’m being sacrificed to a volcano god!” She yelled. “How long do I have to stay here?” 

“Long enough to make sure he sees you!” Boyd yelled back. “So I think twenty minutes might be enough. We’ll keep moving. Everyone else is here, too.” 

“Good for them.” Erica muttered, taking a few cautious steps forward. Even though she had the scarf covering her eyes, she kept them closed. “I don’t understand what he gets out of this. I’m not proud of being epileptic. I hate my seizures. I’d trade them in for anything. Magic beans or a stupid goose or actually having to stand on top of a volcano. But an inactive one. I’m not suicidal.” She stopped walking, laughing softly when Boyd bumped into her “Kiss me?” 

“Yeah, I can do that.” Boyd agreed, putting a hand on Erica’s lower back as he turned her toward him, leaning down for a kiss. “I know you can do this. You’re strong enough to handle it. He’s not going to break you.” 

“Where were you when I was being recorded and laughed at?” Erica muttered, but she smiled. “You’re really into me wearing this blindfold, aren’t you?” 

“I might be.” Boyd smiled back at her, even though he knew she couldn’t see it. “Hang on, Stiles just sent me a text.” He let go of her hands to look down at his phone. 

Erica felt someone else take her hands and tug her through a crowd, judging by the number of people she bumped into. “Where are we going?” Her guide didn’t answer, just kept leading her behind him. “Okay, I give up.” She called out when the music faded and she felt cool wind on her face and shoulders. “I know you’re not one of my friends, so who are you? The Observer?” She tried to tug her hands free from his, scowling when he wouldn’t let go. When he did release one of her hands a moment later, he still said nothing, smacking her with what felt like a thick piece of paper when she tried to reach up to take the blindfold off. “Fine, you fucking asshole. I just want you to know that one of my best friends is going to find out who you are and he’s going to kill you.” She clenched her teeth, terrified out of her mind and trying not to show it, when he lifted one strap of her dress and slid something underneath it, so that it rested between her shoulder and the strap. Before Erica had a chance to react, she heard running footsteps. She burst into tears and struggled to untie the blindfold. The sound stopped fading away and began to get closer, and she clawed at the knot, cursing Lydia’s attention to detail and how it had been a blessing when she didn’t want to see anything. 

“Erica.” Boyd put his hand on her shoulder, but moved backward quickly when she screamed and started slapping him away. “Erica, it’s me. Help me get the blindfold off of her, she’s freaking out.” 

Erica wrapped her arms around herself, sending the paper flying to the ground as hands worked to untie the knot she hadn’t been able to loosen. “Is it over? I was the last one. It’s over now, right?” She opened her eyes when the blindfold was off, feeling sick to her stomach as she turned and saw the rest of her friends come out of the building to find her. 

“Not yet.” Stiles held the paper up, waving it at everyone. 

_Dear Friends,_

_In the last few weeks, I believe we have learned a lot about one another. I know you have made assumptions about my identity. I believe you will find me, but not until I’m ready to be found. In the meantime, I have one more task for each of you. You have seen what happens when you refuse. Know that I went easy on you, and I won’t do that again. Your trials will be harder to complete, but that’s the nature of things._

_As before, you will complete your task and alter this letter, passing it on to the next person on the list. And as before, you are not to interact with Derek Hale, Cora Hale, Danny Mahealani or Vernon Boyd._

_Say your goodbyes this weekend. The first trial begins on Monday._

_Do not defy me again._

_Warmest regards,_

_The Observer_

At the bottom of the page, Erica’s name was first. She cleared her throat as she looked around. “If I refuse to do this, do you think he’ll really do something worse than before? Or is he just fucking with us right now? I mean, I can handle raw chicken in my locker.” 

“Erica, he tried to _kill_ Scott. Worse than before is kind of a guaranteed death, and I’m not letting him win.” Stiles frowned, realizing how futile it was for him to try to stay ahead of their tormenter. No matter what they did, no matter how they tried to keep themselves safe, they were on the losing side. Complying was bad, defiance was worse. 

“He didn’t say we can’t go to the police.” Lydia looked over at Erica. “We should just do that.” 

“And get murdered?” Stiles snapped. “Fuck it, just do what he says. He wins.” 

“Can’t we just see what this thing is, first?” Erica bit her lip. “It’s probably something stupid and he’ll laugh at us on Monday.” 

“Congratulations, you just jinxed us.” Stiles muttered. “Everything is going to be ten times worse than it would have been, all because you opened your mouth.” 

“Would somebody shut him up?” Jackson demanded. 

“No problem.” Boyd took a step toward Stiles. 

“Go ahead and take one more.” Stiles said darkly. “Anybody lays a hand on me and you won’t have to worry about the Observer, I’ll do his work for him. We’re all as good as dead, anyway. You could consider it a mercy killing if I get there, first.” He felt a hand on his neck and slumped forward, unconscious. 

“You’re welcome.” Allison pushed Stiles toward Derek, who caught him. 

“What did you do?” Scott looked worriedly at his best friend, then looked back at Allison. 

“Pressure points.” Allison explained. “I just made him go to sleep. He’ll be fine, but now he won’t start shit with us. We might want to get a straitjacket on him while he’s out, though.” 

“Yeah, or a muzzle.” Jackson shook his head. “We’ll handle Monday on Monday.” 

Erica wished it was as easy for her as it was for everyone else, as she followed them to the row of vehicles they had parked near the warehouse. They had time to adjust to what the Observer might make them do. She didn’t. 

***

Monday’s newspaper didn’t have anything addressed to Erica directly, or through her initials. The only thing that she found to be unusual was a long line of random letters. She was sure it was meant for her, but she wasn’t sure what it said. 

_dnstieallfbrodmeyveoryblotckeergatrbhahst._

Instead of going to homeroom, everyone on the list gathered in the library to try to figure out what the Observer wanted. Erica felt like her eyes were going to fall out if she stared at the letters any longer, so she put her head down on her arms. 

“Hold on.” Theo muttered. “The last part of it says ‘BHHS,’ if you ignore the A and the T.” He started working backwards on a clean sheet of paper, writing down all of the letters and crossing them off as he rearranged them. 

Erica lifted her head to peer over Theo’s arm. The letters had been sorted to read: 

_stealfromeverylockeratbhhs_

_dnilbdyobtegrat_

“What the hell is duh-nil de-yob tegrat?” Jackson looked annoyed. “What the fuck was wrong with the old way? I liked the old way. It was better than this shit.” 

“It says ‘target Boyd blind.’” Lydia muttered. “If Erica doesn’t turn herself into a kleptomaniac today, that’s Boyd’s punishment.” 

“I guess I’d better get started, then.” Erica stood up. “You guys know that the second I get caught, I’m going to probably be arrested, right? What do I tell the deputy? Or the Sheriff?” 

“Tell whoever it is that you’re being forced into this by a psycho who wants to hurt your boyfriend.” Jackson held a hand up before Stiles could speak. “No, I know. Boyd’s as good as blind if that happens. It’s his way of fucking with us for blindfolding you, the other night. I’ll try to convince my dad to take it easy on you if you get into trouble.” 

Erica nodded. She wasn’t sure how she was going to get into every single locker, but she knew she could start with her friends’ lockers, and she didn’t even have to ask them for help; they followed her out to the hallway and started opening their lockers for her. She took Stiles’ notepad, Lydia’s mirror, Jackson’s comb, Allison’s planner. When her hands were getting full, she put everything into her locker and went to the others for their things. “Someone keep track of this stuff for me, please?” She called out. “I want to give it back later on, if I can.” She gave Lydia a grateful smile when she realized the redhead had already started. “Okay, that just leaves Scott and Theo.” She murmured to herself, walking down the hall toward them. From Scott’s locker, the choice was easy. She took a BHHS magnet. But when she got to Theo’s locker, she stared at him. “I don’t know what to do about this.” 

“Neither do I.” Theo shrugged, looking at his empty locker. “I carry all of my books in my backpack. I haven’t ever put anything in here.” 

“Then I think it doesn’t matter, maybe?” Erica frowned. “I just think that the Observer is probably watching us somehow and he’s going to expect to hear about what I took from you. If I don’t take anything, even if there’s nothing to take, he might see that as justification for hurting Boyd. Can’t you just throw a gum wrapper in there or some shit and we’ll act like it was your first gum wrapper, ever? I feel like it has to be important stuff, or he wouldn’t be making me do it.” 

Theo popped the door open to his upper shelf, biting his lip. “Okay, you can have this.” He took a picture of his parents and sister from the door, handing it to Erica. “I lied. It’s just easy for me, I’m not going to apologize for it. I didn’t want to give this up, but whatever. I’ve never needed them, anyway. I’m fine on my own.” 

“What are all of you doing out here in the hallway?” Mr. Harris scowled at everyone, pissed off as always.

“We’re having an actual pissing contest.” Stiles smirked at the teacher. “Scott’s got the best distance, but Lydia peed the longest. We’re talking about - ow.” As the teacher dragged Stiles toward the office by the collar of his shirt, Stiles winked at Erica and gave her a thumbs-up, mouthing ‘keep going,’ before he was pulled into the office. 

***

By lunchtime, Erica was disappointed that nobody else had tried to stop her. She had stashed everything in her own locker, since she felt certain that taking the easy way out and putting the stolen items into an empty locker would only be a rule violation. She had gone through an entire package of Lydia’s hair pins and her fingers felt like they were going to bleed from how many times she had jabbed them. 

“Here.” Lydia handed Erica a small container of lotion. “I was thinking all morning, and I’m pretty sure that this trial of yours has everything to do with your Catwoman tattoo. And if that’s the case, then what do I have to do? Grow plants?” 

“Sell pot, probably.” Stiles answered, staring down at the book in his hand. “Now shut up and let me read, I’m getting to the good part.” 

“What if it’s really the seven deadly sins thing, though? Like we thought it was?” Allison sipped her water. “What’s stealing?” 

“Greed. And Erica said she used to steal things all the time, right? So these are past sins we’ve committed, that the Observer knows about, somehow.” 

“I used to steal things, too.” Theo laughed. “Did anyone at this table never steal something?” 

Scott raised his hand. “I’ve never taken anything without permission.” 

“That is a fucking lie.” Stiles closed his book and shoved it into his backpack, giving up on reading for the rest of lunch. “You stole candy three months ago.” 

“Oh, shit. I forgot about that.” Scott looked embarrassed. “I should go back and pay for it.” 

“It’s kind of hard to figure out what we’ll have to do. We all had pride and the Observer wanted us to stop that.” Allison reached for Scott’s hand as she spoke. “But if Erica has greed, that’s one less thing. So what are the other ones and who has them? And what does that entail? It’s stuff that will get us in trouble if we get caught, no matter what. We can’t pretend we were doing something else.” 

“Well, this guy is good, I’ll give him that.” Stiles leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. “Because he’s managed to make it look like at least three of us could be responsible for this whole thing. So if he can think like us, we can think like him. Or at least, ourselves. And figure out what we would do, if we had to assign sins to the rest of our list.” 

Allison looked Lydia. “Pride. Or Wrath? You scare everybody when you’re mad. And you’re always talking about something you read or something you learned.” 

“Pride.” Lydia agreed, nodding. “You’re more wrathful than I am. For awhile, I thought you and Stiles might murder each other.” 

“This is a waste of time.” Jackson looked over at Erica. “Are you done with the lockers or not?” 

“Not even close. I have to get through-” Erica glanced up as conversation faded in the cafeteria and the Sheriff stopped walking, sighing as he looked at her. 

“Erica Reyes?” 

“Yes, sir?” Erica felt sick to her stomach. 

“You know I have to bring you in and why, don’t you?” Noah’s gaze shifted toward his son, but he looked back at Erica. “We got a phone call from someone, anonymously, saying you were getting into lockers. We wouldn’t have had probable cause, but you’ve gotten into trouble more than once for shoplifting.” He kept his voice down. “I don’t want this to be too unpleasant, so I’m doing what I can to work with you, before we go anywhere. We’ve already had the janitor open your locker and it was a little overloaded. A lot of the other lockers look like they were tampered with. It would be a lot easier on me if you could maybe tell me what lockers you got into and what you took from each one, if you can remember?” 

Erica cleared her throat. “I can remember some things.” She nodded, her vision blurring from unshed tears. “If I give everyone their things back, can I get a lesser punishment for that?” 

“Well, I’d allow it.” Noah began. “But your principal has already heard complaints of important things going missing. Books from some lockers, concert tickets, a video camera... I didn’t see a video camera in your locker. Mind telling me where you’re keeping it? A friend’s locker, maybe?” 

Erica shook her head. “I didn’t take anyone’s video camera, Sheriff. I took the concert tickets and I’ll give them right back.” She looked over at Lydia. “You have that list, right? Just give it to him, please?” 

Lydia nodded and got her notebook out. She was tearing at one of the pages when the Sheriff fastened a handcuff around her wrist. “Excuse me?” She scowled. 

“You’re an accessory to these thefts, Miss Martin.” Noah explained, sighing. “Come on, both of you.” He nodded to a couple of his deputies and stepped back, letting them handle the rest of the procedure as he took the notebook and put it in an oversized plastic baggie, for evidence. 

“Dad.” Stiles protested. “You don’t understand. They’re not...” 

“Stiles, I hate having to say these words, but shut up.” Noah shook his head. “Anything more than what has already come out of your mouth, and you’re going to implicate yourself, kid. Stay quiet.” 

“Just listen to him, Stiles.” Lydia was pulled by her wrists, into a standing position. “You don’t have to do that, I am capable of getting up all by myself, I’ve been doing it since I was a baby. Jackson, call your dad and see if you can convince him to take it easy on both of us.” 

Stiles’ fists clenched as he watched Lydia and Erica being escorted from the cafeteria. “Fuck. Now what do we do?” 

“I’m calling my dad and I think you should really have a talk with yours. Lydia can’t have any kind of criminal record. She just... you don’t know what it would do to her.” Jackson glanced at Theo, then got up from the table and walked away, his phone pressed to his ear. 

Stiles stood up and grabbed his backpack. “Scott, try to figure out whose video camera was stolen and why the fuck they even had it here at school. If Erica says she didn’t take it, she didn’t take it.” 

“Stiles, I know.” Scott assured his best friend. “Anything else?” 

“Yeah.” Stiles looked at the rest of his friends, who looked just as lost as he felt. “Theo, if Scott can’t figure out what we need to know, it’s on you to start picking locks to see who has the video camera. Get it done before the end of the school day, because I have a feeling that whoever took it, we’ll never find it if we don’t find it by the last bell.” 

“We.” Theo repeated, scoffing. He smiled tensely. “Don’t let Lydia get into trouble. Do whatever you have to do, just keep her out of it.” He understood that Jackson still cared about Lydia, but he got irritated every time they seemed like they were gravitating toward one another. 

“What do you need me to do?” Allison demanded. “I hate taking orders, but I can’t just do nothing.” 

“Um, yeah.” Stiles made a face, not wanting to give Allison a bullshit task that she would know to be bullshit, but not having time to think of something he deemed important. “Keep an eye on Boyd.” He ran from the cafeteria. 

“Great, I’ve got babysitting duty.” Allison stabbed at her food with her fork. “Look, now that he’s gone... I still think it’s possible that it’s been him all along. I don’t want to believe it because he’s our friend, but I didn’t want to believe my aunt was capable of kidnapping and murder, either. When Stiles’ dad said he got an anonymous tip, he looked at Stiles. I think Stiles told Erica to steal from everyone, and then he turned her in for it.” 

Scott sighed. “Allison, please don’t start this again. You got me to agree with you before and I know there are reasons to think that he’s behind this, but the reasons are wrong.” 

“This is what the Observer wants.” Theo agreed. “So I’m taking a page from the Sheriff’s book right now. Scott’s too nice to just outright tell you to shut up, but I’m not. So shut up, Allison.” 

Allison dropped her fork on her tray and glared at Theo. “I just told Stiles I don’t like taking orders. I’m sure as hell not taking them from you.” 

“Okay.” Theo smiled coldly. “Don’t take orders from me, Stiles, or the Observer. You can take them from the devil himself because you’re going to end up in the ground if you don’t play nice.” He got up from the table and walked away, deciding to get started on finding the video camera before Scott went to the office. He already had a few guesses as to where it might be.


	8. Theo

Theo stood across the street from the police station, leaning back against a doorway that had been boarded up for some time, if the graffiti was anything to go by. He didn’t want to be seen, but he wanted to make sure that Lydia and Erica were released without too much trouble. 

He hadn’t found the video camera, and school was over for the day, so he knew that the Observer had slipped through their grasp again. Erica’s trial wasn’t a trial at all, it had been an excuse for the guy to get into Matt Daehler’s locker. Theo needed to relay that information to Stiles, but he hated cops and being in the Sheriff’s house had freaked him out. 

Theo watched as Lydia, Erica and Stiles walked out of the building and got into the Jeep. He glanced at the blinking turn signal when Stiles got to the exit of the parking lot, then turned and started running in the direction of the nearest traffic light, glancing over his shoulder to keep an eye on the Jeep. When Stiles stopped in a line of cars, Theo walked out into the street and knocked on the window. 

Lydia smiled as she opened the passenger side door to let him in. “You could have come into the station to see me, you know.” 

“That wasn’t going to happen.” Theo climbed over Lydia and dropped into the seat beside Erica. “Hi.” 

“Hey.” Erica smiled weakly. “Well, the good news is that we don’t have criminal records. The bad news is that when Stiles drops me off, my parents are going to tell him to stay away from their daughter. They were already yelling at me over the phone about the ‘bad element’ I’ve begun to associate with. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t have any friends, before.” 

“My mom threatened to send me to live with my dad.” Lydia turned around to look at Theo. “I told her that if she tried that, I'd develop an actual penchant for criminal behavior. I don’t think Stiles’ dad wanted to bring us in at all, and the fact that we took notes and had every intention of returning the stolen things did work out in our favor. He kept asking us why we took everything, and _Erica_ said it was a senior prank, which obviously raised the question of why we were getting such an early start. I said it wasn’t _our_ senior prank and then I may have implicated some people who would take credit for this sort of thing, regardless of their guilt. Or the lack thereof. If they want to treat an arrest record like a badge of honor, that’s not my problem.” 

“I didn’t get the video camera. But I know it was Matt Daehler’s.” Theo leaned forward to rub Lydia’s shoulders as he spoke. “Should we ask Matt who he thinks took it from him?” 

“He won’t be able to tell us.” Stiles shook his head. “Everybody has known for months that Matt got that either as a prize or with the money from his dares, before he even gave his other winnings to Allison.” 

“Yeah, we need to talk about her.” Theo kissed Lydia’s cheek. “I know she’s your best friend, but... she’s still insisting that Stiles is the Observer. I don’t know that it’s wise to tell her anything. Keep her in the dark, and Scott, too. All we have to do is what the Observer has planned for us, and try to catch him while we’re at it. Her accusations are just causing more trouble and she’s not worth it.” 

“Why can’t we tell Scott?” Stiles pulled up in front of Erica’s house and turned toward Theo. 

“Because he’ll just tell Allison.” Lydia answered for her boyfriend. “But dividing ourselves up even further makes us vulnerable.” 

“Not if we just stick to the tasks instead of trying to break the rules.” Theo moved out of the way to let Erica out of the Jeep, then got back in. “Erica’s done. She’s safe. She can go spend time with Boyd and the others, and they’ll look out for her. I’m not saying we can’t or shouldn’t, just that we won’t have to. And we’re busy with this, anyway. Jackson can do what he wants, but...” 

“But you don’t think I should?” Lydia moved into the back seat of the Jeep to be able to talk to Theo without getting a cramp in her neck. “What happens if they can’t decipher their messages without our help?” 

“They’ll have our help.” Stiles pulled away from the curb. “I’m not excluding Scott. This isn’t some kind of scavenger hunt or dare game, where we’re competing with one another. This is literally life or death. Just because this fucker hasn’t acted on his threats in a more serious way than he did with Scott and Danny, that doesn’t mean he won’t. And you can’t get much more serious than cutting someone’s brakes. I owe him for that, by the way. I haven’t forgotten.” 

“What about Allison?” Lydia tried not to sound nervous, but she was. She wasn’t sure why things had been quiet for two months, just to start up again. She couldn’t help wondering if her birthday was the catalyst. 

“I don’t know yet. I’ll tell you when I figure that out.” Stiles pulled into the student lot and parked by Lydia’s car, where she had left it earlier that day. “I need to talk to Theo. I’ll drive him home.” 

Lydia wanted to argue, since all she wanted was to spend time with her boyfriend and forget about how badly her day had gone, but she knew that Stiles wouldn’t drop it until he got his own way. She wanted so badly to believe that he wasn’t the Observer, but she did see why Allison hadn’t let go of that notion. “Okay.” She kissed Theo and got out of the Jeep, getting into her own car. 

Theo watched Lydia drive away, then climbed into the passenger seat, beside Stiles. “We’re not leaving school yet, are we?” 

“No.” Stiles shook his head. “I’m getting into the office and looking for this guy, and you’re going to help me. And I have some things I need to tell you, anyway.” He drove to a shaded part of the lot, glancing at his watch. “We have time, the office staff doesn’t leave until four-thirty. I found out who’s been paying your utilities, but you’re going to be pissed off. Maybe.” 

“Okay. I’ve been pissed off enough lately that it’s practically default by now. Just tell me.” Theo said softly. 

“David Whittemore. Jackson’s dad.” Stiles looked over at Theo. “What do you think the odds are that the Observer already knew this about you?” 

“I don’t care about that. I think the bigger question is, what the hell is he going to make me do tomorrow? What’s my sin?” Theo shook his head and sat back, staring off into space. “I think we have enough time that if we sit here and go over the details, we might figure out who the Observer is.” 

“We know it’s a guy.” Stiles bit his lip. “No, we assume it’s a guy. Forcing Lydia to cut her hair was the first thing. That’s not necessarily something a guy would do. Not unless he was feeling particularly vindictive. But a lot of people hate Lydia. Price of popularity. Or so I’ve seen in movies.” He snorted. “Jackson would be a suspect in that, but he and Lydia are friendly enough that it wouldn’t make sense. Especially not since he was next up and he had to quit lacrosse. That just about killed him.” 

“Or he wants us to think that.” Theo muttered. “Be honest, if you were setting up something like this, wouldn’t you make your task something you were going to do anyway? We can rule out Erica because she couldn’t have led herself away during the rave, and her task was physically taxing. Lydia... I really like her, but it’s not like her popularity disappeared when she cut her hair. If anything, she got more attention.” 

“I think our real problem is that you and I don’t trust anyone.” Stiles rested his forearms on his steering wheel. “And as close as we are, as a group? We have more reason to suspect each other, because of it. I don’t know how Scott escaped the paranoia, given what his dad is like. I can’t trust people because my own mom accused me of trying to kill her when she was at her worst, and she physically attacked me. I’ve kind of had this sixth sense about people since I was a kid, but I never would have thought that she...” He shook his head. “And your parents took off. Lydia’s parents treated her like she was stupid. Erica’s won’t let her do anything. Jackson feels like his birth parents abandoned him. The only person that doesn’t have serious trust issues with their parents, of the seven of us, is Allison. And hers just moved her around all the time, so... maybe that’s it. But I already said that this guy has a bad home life. He’s probably in foster care. Video camera could be to record abuse?” He glanced at Theo. “If nobody believes him. He’s definitely given us cause not to believe each other. Probably to make us see what it’s like. But I don’t know of anyone who’s been trying to get my attention, to tell me he’s being abused. I think that’s the sort of thing I’d notice. So I could just be assuming.” 

“I don’t think we want the regular office. I think we need to get into the guidance office. What time is it?” Theo rubbed his arms, frowning when a shadow fell over his side of the Jeep. His eyes widened and he reached out to grab Stiles’ arm. “Oh, shit.” 

Stiles gave Theo a confused look, and then the Jeep was sliding sideways across the parking lot, teetering on both left wheels as the right side was lifted.

Theo reached down, unfastening Stiles’ seatbelt with one hand as he gripped his friend’s hoodie with the other. “Hold on, we’re about to tip over and it’s going to get worse when you move, but you need to get into the back, behind me. Okay?” 

Stiles nodded, gulping. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” The Jeep tilted further and Stiles closed his eyes. 

“No, you have to look.” Theo demanded. “Can you see him? I can’t look at him, I’m trying to help you.” 

“All I see is the yellow... fucking thing in the way. I can’t think of the word for it right...” Stiles heard metal creaking. “Can I move now?” 

“Yeah. Hold onto the back of my seat, though.” Theo muttered. “I’m letting go and you’re going to move. Legs first, so they don’t get pinned if we tip too fast.” 

“Yeah.” Stiles said again, moving halfway between the seats. He squirmed into place behind Theo, just as the Jeep tipped onto its side and glass broke in the left windows. He kept his grip, knuckles white, on the back of the headrest. “Oh god. What did we do wrong?” He stammered. “Why is he doing this?” 

“You’re seriously asking me why this psycho guy, the one who cut Scott’s brakes, wants us dead?” Theo asked dryly. 

“Excuse me for not thinking clearly!” Stiles snapped. 

“Can you open the back from where you’re at? We can climb out if we hurry.” Theo grimaced, hating that he couldn’t see what was going on, now that the right side of the Jeep was at the top. 

“No, if I let go, I’m going to just fall onto the broken glass.” Stiles frowned. “And I can’t climb over this seat and into the back. Not the way things are right now. What about you? Can you move?” 

“The thing is....” Theo looked embarrassed. “If I open the door and try to climb out, I'm probably going to get hit in the face with the, uh, scooper thing. I kind of want to throw up right now.” 

Stiles grimaced and eyed the pile of shattered glass underneath him. He twisted around carefully, putting his feet down where the window used to be and lowering himself into a crouched position as he kept one hand on Theo’s seat. He dug his phone out of his pocket with his other hand and dialed nine-one-one, speaking as calmly as he could when a woman answered. “Hey, is this Marjorie? This is Stiles. I know that I’ve made a lot of weird calls to you guys over the years, but I - shit, she hung up.” 

Theo snorted. “Maybe you shouldn’t have opened with that.” He glanced up at the sound of liquid hitting the window over his head. “Please tell me that’s not gasoline.” 

“It’s not gasoline.” Stiles repeated, watching as ice crystals formed on the glass, so thick that the little bit of sunshine they had was now obscured by white. “I’m pretty sure we’re going to be trapped in here for awhile. At least until the sun melts the ice.” 

“Stiles, it’s the beginning of April. It drops to thirty degrees at night.” Theo bit his lip. “I’m going to try calling the station, okay?” 

“Explain to me why I would object to that.” Stiles scoffed. 

“Because they hung up on you and I don’t want you pissed off at me when they take my call.” Theo said quickly. “Hey, we have an emergency in the high school parking lot.” 

“Yeah? What is it this time? Dinosaurs? Aliens? Tell Stiles that some jokes just aren’t funny, and his friend warned us that you two would be trying to prank us tonight. Why don’t you try doing your homework, instead of getting into trouble?” The dispatcher hung up. 

“Um.” Theo groaned. “That didn’t work. Now what?” 

“I don’t fucking know, what do you mean now what?” Stiles snapped. “You wanna play Go Fish? Because I’m out of ideas.” He took a deep breath. “Fuck. Okay, call Lydia and I’ll call Scott. We need to conserve our phone batteries, just in case everyone keeps ignoring us. But if we tell them that this asshole might be coming for them, they can go to my dad. It’s what we should have done before, so... I don’t want anyone to die, but I really don’t want to die, either. And yeah, I know. We’re probably not going to, but... I don’t want to sit here for another eighteen hours. Odds are, if we did get the back open, we’d get shot. I’m not in the mood to risk it.” 

Theo laughed softly, frustrated. “Yeah, this isn’t how I want to die, either.” 

“How do you want to die?” Stiles made a face. “Never mind, let’s not go down that road.” He called Scott, closing his eyes when the phone just kept ringing. “I swear to god, if he’s not answering because he’s having sex with Allison, I’m going to castrate him.” 

“Lydia’s not answering, either. I don’t think he had time to get to her, but there must be some reason she’s not... do you want to call Derek?” Theo twisted sideways, putting his feet down on what had been the driver’s side window, then unfastened his seatbelt. “Or are you still going with the idea that we can’t talk to everyone else?” 

“I do want to talk to Derek.” Stiles began. “But I don’t want to freak him out with this. He’s had enough shit to deal with. I’ll tell him when I’m safe and it doesn’t matter anymore, I’m not calling him when there’s nothing he can do. And I don’t think we’re going to get murdered, this is just all part of the Observer’s game. This is the second time he’s used ice, though. That’s important, right?” 

“It could be.” Theo agreed. He tried calling Lydia again. “Come on, pick up. Damn it. Hey, Lydia. I hope you get this in time. Stiles and I are kind of stuck in a bad situation right now and we don’t know what’s going on, so we’re just hoping to catch you guys before our friendly neighborhood fuckwit does. He can’t get in touch with Scott, either. And dispatch won’t listen. So... just call me back.” He hung up. “You don’t think that this has something to do with you finding out who’s been paying my utility bills, do you? Because, you know. Water?” 

“Nah, I still think it’s an ice thing. Kate Argent was going to trap Scott in a walk-in freezer, where she had already put Derek, Cora and Danny. I want to try the back door of the Jeep now, but I have a feeling that it’s going to be just as iced over as the side. Top. Whatever.” Stiles closed his eyes. “This is probably a bad time to mention that I have anxiety attacks, isn’t it? And claustrophobia might be an irrational fear, but it’s been proven that people can develop it after prolonged exposure to being stuck in an enclosed space. Did you ever see that video of the guy that spent an entire weekend in an elevator?” 

“Maybe you forgot that I don’t have the internet at my house.” Theo reminded Stiles gently. “It’s getting colder in here. Can you turn the Jeep back on and maybe get the heat going?” 

“Okay, I would, but the Jeep doesn’t actually have heat. Maybe _you forgot_ that I wear a lot of layers in cold weather? That’s partly because I’m always cold, but partly because I’m always cold because the Jeep is always cold. Unless it’s hot outside, I mean. And then, you know. The opposite.” Stiles rubbed his hands together and blew into them. “I’m not going to even try calling Erica. Her parents were both home, anyway. She’s probably not going to be allowed to answer if we did call her. So we’ve got options. Allison or Jackson?” 

“I told Allison to go to hell, earlier. She’s not going to want to talk to either of us.” Theo stood up as straight as he could, in the confined space. “My legs are starting to cramp already. Move out of the way. I’m sick of this and I have an idea.” He waited for Stiles to crouch down again, then leaned his shoulders back between the driver’s and passenger seats, frowning as he twisted himself sideways to do so. 

“Wait, what the hell are you trying to do?” Stiles protested. 

“Stiles.” Theo sighed. “I’m going to kick the windshield out and get out of here, then help you get out.” 

“Uh, no you’re not.” Stiles shook his head. “Do you have one hundred percent certainty that the Observer isn’t standing on the other side of this Jeep, holding a loaded gun and just waiting for one of us to pop our heads out like human whack-a-mole?” 

“If he had a loaded gun, why wouldn’t he have used it already?” Theo stared at Stiles, but squirmed his way back into a crouched position in the driver’s side of the Jeep. 

“He had access to a backhoe and he didn’t use it until now. He knew about Matt’s camera months ago and just now stole it. Why wait for anything? Because he’s a dick. And a psycho. And psychos don’t need reasons. If this was a movie, there’d be all kinds of talk about motive, and we already went over that shit, anyway. It didn’t get us anywhere. You know why? Because he’s a nutbar and I cannot wait until this ice melts. I'm going to find that fucking Jeep-killing machine and piss all over it.” 

“I hope you’re talking about the backhoe and not the Observer.” Theo grinned. 

Stiles paused, blinking, then laughed. “Fuck it, maybe both of them. Until then, I’m breaking a rule.” He called his dad’s cell phone. “Hey, Pop.” 

“Stiles.” Noah sounded irritated. “What’s this I hear about you making prank phone calls?” 

“I haven’t made a prank phone call since... three days ago.” Stiles muttered. “Don’t hang up!” 

“I’m not hanging up.” Noah assured his son. “What’s going on?” 

“Okay.” Stiles murmured. “There’s this guy that tipped my Jeep over with a backhoe in the student parking lot, at school. And then, I don’t know how, but he iced over the only way out. Theo and I are freezing and getting leg cramps. Can you please come get us?” 

“Now I’m hanging up.” Noah muttered. 

“Dad!” Stiles yelled. “ _Do not_ hang up. I’ll tell you everything if you just drive out here and see for yourself. When you see that I’m telling the truth, you’ll have to believe me. And really, why would I make up a lie like this?” 

“You do remember the time you called Marjorie and told her that a group of green-skinned men tried to kidnap and molest you?” Noah said dryly. 

“It was Halloween and I was putting my own spin on War of the Worlds.” Stiles sighed. “But yeah, I see your point. At least it’s not like the chicken feet thing, though. I still think Mabel sold her soul to win at Bingo. Haven’t you noticed that she never loses?” 

“Do you want me to end this conversation and not come by?” Noah was already putting his jacket on, but he couldn’t resist aggravating his son once in awhile. It was only fair. 

“I’m hanging up and I’ll see you soon.” Stiles said quickly. “Love you.” He hung up. 

“It’s probably going to be envy. For me.” Theo murmured. “Because I know that Erica hates the way her parents dote on her and they won’t leave her alone, but my parents actually left me alone.” 

“Any idea why Jackson’s dad would pay for your bills?” Stiles leaned against the back seat and closed his eyes. “I’m going to take the hottest shower when I get home. And then sleep until June.” 

“He’s the district attorney and he could have reported me being alone at any point, but he didn’t do that.” Theo reached over and smacked Stiles’ shoulder. “If you’re already freezing, sleep is the last thing you should be doing right now. Did you hit your head at all when we were pushed across the lot?” 

“I don’t think so. But it did take me awhile to remember what the backhoe was actually called.” Stiles mused. “So maybe I have a concussion? Or it could be a stress thing. And you’re changing the subject. Why would someone known for upholding the law be so eager to sidestep it, when it comes to you? Maybe he owed your parents a favor, but seven years’ worth of favors?” 

“Can we not tilt at windmills right now?” Theo asked, smiling slowly when he heard sirens. “Thank god.” 

“Says the atheist.” Stiles snorted. “And I’m kind of tilting at everything, so yeah, windmills aren’t excluded.” 

“It’s an expression, just like ‘go fuck yourself’ is an expression.” 

“Jesus christ.” Noah exclaimed from outside the Jeep. A few seconds later, Stiles’ phone rang. 

“Jesus christ is also an expression.” Theo laughed. 

“Dad!” Stiles punched Theo in the shoulder and smiled as he answered his phone. “We’re okay, we’re just kind of stuck right now. I probably should have mentioned the possibility of you needing a blowtorch.” 

***

“Let me get this straight.” Noah looked from Stiles to Theo, an hour later. “Some guy you go to school with is pissed off that you didn’t get murdered in January, and he tried to kill Scott, and you decided that telling me was _optional_?” 

“Considering the fact that he said he’d start killing us if we told you, yes.” Stiles returned his father’s annoyed look. “And we weren’t going to take him seriously, but then he did try to kill Scott. And he hurt Danny and Erica.” 

Theo decided that saying anything else would only earn the Sheriff’s ire, so he waited patiently for their argument to die out, like it usually did. If he wasn’t still freaked out by what had happened, he would probably be laughing at the fact that Stiles had refused to get his father involved until the Jeep was ‘injured.’

“What do you know about this?” Noah turned his attention to Theo. “You’ve been quiet.” 

Theo licked his lips. “With all due respect, sir? Stiles’ habit of dominating the conversation makes everyone else seem quiet in comparison. I’ve never been very talkative, anyway.” He sighed. “We don’t really know anything about him. We only have guesses, based on why he seems to be targeting each of us and what he’s asked - told us to do. He’s very much against anyone taking pride in themselves. We figured out kind of early on that he was going to come at us with the seven deadly sins, since there are seven of us and he’s so against the idea of pride. But we only have Erica’s task to build off of, and he seems to see us a lot differently than we see ourselves. His behavior is sort of like a serial killer’s, without the actual murder.” 

“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Noah muttered. 

Theo smiled fondly when both Stilinskis immediately reached out to rap their knuckles against the coffee table. 

“I vote right now that we stop calling this guy the Observer and start calling him Mr. Freeze.” Stiles snorted. “Even though as Batman villains go, he’s a shitty one. But that’s kind of the point I’m trying to make, anyway.” 

Theo rolled his eyes and nudged Stiles’ shoulder. “You’ve got to stop trying to make everyone your nemesis. You’re not that important.” 

“For awhile, I figured you would be.” Stiles laughed. “Because I knew that Scott would let me win if we stayed in a tie, and that Allison would more than likely defer to Scott, so the same thing would result. You were the wild card.” 

“If you start calling me the Joker, I’m leaving town and you’ll never see me again.” Theo did his best to ignore the derisive snort from Stiles’ father. He had stopped worrying about Lydia’s safety after the older man had called everyone to verify that they were safe, and learned that Lydia’s mom had been lecturing her and refused to let her answer her phone. He felt a little guilty that he had come to enjoy Stiles’ company more than Lydia’s, but he still had some resentment toward her for taking one look at the home he had made for himself, deciding it was inadequate, and rallying everyone to alter it without his approval. It wasn’t that the changes were bad - the opposite was true - but he knew that there was a lot of issues he needed to address in his relationship with his girlfriend. 

Stiles stood up and patted Theo’s shoulder, then went into the kitchen, leaving Theo alone with the Sheriff. It was exactly what he had been hoping to avoid for the past few months and he smiled nervously. 

“Anything else you think I need to know, that my son might’ve conveniently left out?” Noah asked. “Because now would be the time to tell me.” 

Theo shook his head. “No, he covered everything. The Observer is-” 

“I wasn’t talking about that.” Noah interrupted. He stared at Theo until Theo couldn’t hold his gaze anymore and looked away, frowning and feeling like he had somehow just failed a test he hadn’t studied for. He kept his gaze on the window as he heard the Sheriff get up and yell to Stiles that he was ordering a pizza, since all three of them were going to need comfort food after the day they had endured. 

Stiles sat down by Theo and yawned. “I wasn’t kidding about needing to sleep until June. And I guess my dad decided that you’re having dinner with us? Not that I object to it, or anything. You should probably just stay here, anyway. I’d invite everyone else over, but the paper is going to come in the morning and you might need help decoding the message he leaves you? Not that you can’t do it yourself, but I can help. Staying by yourself is...” He sighed. “Okay, fuck it. I don’t want to be by myself. I know my dad’s here, but I can’t stand the idea of not knowing if the rest of you are okay. And since Erica and Lydia are banned from talking to me, Allison would rather chew glass, and Scott’s kind of reliant on her for... reasons... I’m down to having you and Jackson to talk to. Nobody’s going anywhere near him, he’s safe in his freaking McMansion.” 

“So I don’t get a say in this?’ Theo laughed. “I’m just supposed to let you tell me what to do?” 

Stiles looked up at him, unimpressed. “Yes.” 

Theo felt a weird jolt to his system, like he had been struck by lightning. He knew then that he was definitely in trouble and he needed to have a long talk with Lydia about the fact that he had feelings for Stiles. He realized after a few too many seconds of silence that he was expected to say something clever, but he had had enough of being tested by the Stilinskis for one night. “In that case, I’m going to go do my homework. If, uh, Mr. Freeze doesn’t kill me by the end of the week, I can’t get out of writing my history paper.” He got up and walked toward the guest room. 

“You want hamburger and black olives on yours, right?” Stiles called out to him. 

Theo stopped mid-stride. He closed his eyes, needing a minute to try to take in, and subsequently ignore the fact that Stiles knew what his favorite pizza toppings were. “Yeah, thanks.” 

***

_tllshrffyrlntrgtlydmnd_

_eeiouaeaoeaeiai_

Theo didn’t need any help with cracking the coded message that had been left for him, the next morning. He felt awkward about the fact that Lydia was the intended target, now that he knew he was going to more than likely stop being her boyfriend by the end of the day. 

“Tell Sheriff you are alone.” Stiles muttered, reading over Theo’s shoulder. “Well, he’s a dick. But we already knew that. You want me around for this conversation?” 

“No, I’ve got this.” Theo breathed in and out slowly and wished that he was a better person. He avoided Stiles’ gaze, hoping that he wasn’t as easy to read as he sometimes worried that he was. Even without making eye contact or even looking in his direction, Theo knew that Stiles was still standing over him for longer than necessary. 

“Okay.” Stiles walked back down the hall to his bedroom and closed the door to give Theo and his dad the opportunity to talk privately. 

When the Sheriff walked into the kitchen, Theo got up from the couch and followed him into the room. “The thing he wants me to do today... uh, Mr. Freeze, that is. I’m supposed to tell you something that I probably should have told someone a long time ago, so I don’t mind saying it now.” 

“You’re fully on-board with using the nickname that my son came up with?” Noah put a couple of slices of leftover pizza in the microwave and started reheating them. “All right, what is it?” 

“When I was nine, my parents left me. They took my sister and just about all of the furniture, except my bed, and they moved away. They said they were getting divorced, but that they weren’t interested in raising me, that I had been their last hope to stay together and I was too much of a hassle.” Theo felt like he was reciting a weather report. He knew it upset Lydia to hear him talk about it, but it was just a detail about his life and he wasn’t embarrassed about it. He also knew that the consequence of talking to anyone in law enforcement would mean that he had to give up his independence. “I’m not telling you out of a need for help or sympathy. I’m only saying it because it’s what the Observer wants me to do, and he threatened to hurt Lydia if I don’t do it. I only recently found out that someone’s been taking care of me this whole time, but I don’t understand why they would do that much, and not take me in, to raise as their own.” 

“Do you know who’s doing that?” Noah asked carefully. “The ‘taking care of you’ part?” 

“Stiles said it’s Jackson’s dad.” Theo nodded. “And I know he has enough money to raise more than one kid. I could have had a lifetime supply of food for what Jackson’s car costs.” 

Noah snorted. “Yeah, you’re not wrong about that. To level with you, though? I already knew that this was something you were dealing with. I can’t get into all of the details, but one of the first things I was made aware of, when I became Sheriff, was that I wasn’t allowed to stick you in foster care. All of the things you decided you needed were going to be supplied by the Whittemores, and if you ever felt that it wasn’t enough and you wanted some help, then I could do something about it.” 

“What?” Stiles blurted, storming into the kitchen. “Okay, fuck it, I was eavesdropping.” He shrugged. “Sue me. This explains a few more things, but why was Theo stuck having to steal food to survive? Why didn’t the Whittemores buy him a real bed?” 

“They paid for the food he took, and they probably didn’t know - wait, where do you sleep?” Noah demanded. 

“I have a bed now, but I was using the mattress from my bed. Uh, on the floor? Because I was too big for the bed I had when my parents left.” Theo looked back and forth between Noah and Stiles. “Since I guess you’re kind of my legal guardian for the time being?” He asked Noah. “Can you just call the school and tell them I won’t be in today? I need time to deal with this.” 

“Do you want-” Stiles began. 

“You’re going to school.” Noah pointed at his son. “I’m dropping you off and picking you up.” 

“Yeah, because that’s what I need.” Stiles muttered. 

“Kid, you could’ve had it a lot worse yesterday than you did. You’re damned lucky that putting ice on your Jeep was the worst of it.” 

“I’m pretty sure that being shoved halfway across the parking lot and tipped sideways was the worst of it. And anyway, if Theo wants me to stay, I’m-” 

“Go to school.” Theo looked up at Stiles. “I swear I’ll be okay. I might go over to my house to get my stuff and bring it back here.” Belatedly, he remembered his decision from the night before about talking to Lydia. “Actually, I’ll probably be there before lunch. So don’t call me in, I’ll just be late.” 

“Are you sure?” Stiles smiled. “If I could, I’d take the day off. You might as well.” 

“I need to talk to Lydia, though. See you at lunch.” Theo said firmly. 

***

Theo didn’t want to know why Jackson’s dad was so invested in his life. He had his suspicions, but he didn’t care. He walked home, shoved his clothes into a trash bag and tossed it into his truck, then drove back to the Stilinski house. He knew he was probably, definitely making a big mistake by choosing to live across the hallway from someone he had feelings for; his life was about to get even more complicated, and he would handle it all, the same way he always had. 

He waited at Lydia’s locker before lunch, smiling nervously at her when she hugged him. “Hey.” 

“Stiles told all of us what happened to you yesterday. And this morning. I really wanted to call, but my mom took my phone and wouldn’t let me have it back until I was getting ready to leave for school. She said she can’t control what I do in this building anyway, and I guess I could have called when I knew you would be late, but Stiles kind of told me not to.” Lydia opened her locker. “Are you okay?” 

“I think we need to break up.” Theo blurted. “So, no, not really okay. It’s not anything you did. Well, not entirely. I appreciate that you were trying to help me, with getting all of that stuff into the house for me. But I shouldn’t have been there and the better idea would have been to convince me to leave, I think. Not that I would have listened. I wasn’t really given much of a choice today, as far as that goes. But you just kind of swooped in and didn’t even ask me what I wanted, and it’s not just that.” He stopped short of telling her that he liked someone else. Stiles was dating Derek and there was no reason to mention how Theo felt about him. “But that’s the biggest reason. I think you still care about Jackson and I think you should consider giving him another chance. I’m just trying to do the right thing here, instead of all the wrong things for what I think are the right reasons.” 

Lydia nodded, reaching up to tug at a braid that wasn’t there and faltering. “I don’t know if I’m going to do that, but I respect that you have valid points.” She kissed his cheek. “I’m not really in the mood to sit by you today at lunch, so if our group divides itself, don’t take it to heart.” She walked away.


	9. Stiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains gun violence. If that's too much for you, don't read.

Stiles set his lunch tray down and looked around in confusion when he realized that Lydia and Allison were sitting by themselves at a different table. “What’s that about?” He nodded toward the girls, looking at Scott. “Did you and Allison break up again?” 

“No, Lydia and I did.” Theo shrugged one shoulder, even though it was obvious to Stiles that he was bothered by it. “With everything else going on, it just felt like it had to happen. But I think we’re both okay, it’s not like it ever really got serious.” 

“Except that Lydia went to a lot of trouble to decorate your house.” Erica pouted as she looked for Boyd, lifting a hand to wave to him before she changed her mind. “Are the two of you okay?” 

“Mostly, I’m annoyed that some people didn’t answer their phones for no fucking reason. Oh, wait.” Stiles gestured to Scott. “I guess there was a _fucking_ reason.” 

“What would have been better?” Scott asked, tired of the argument they had been having all day. “Answering the phone while I’m going down on her?” 

Stiles tilted his head, lifting his index finger to indicate that he needed time to think about that. 

“Stiles!” Scott looked disgusted and threw a roll at him. “No.” 

“From here on out, until my dad catches Mr. Freeze, no more ignoring phone calls.” Stiles insisted. He glanced at Theo, who was still picking at his food, his head down. He frowned, but looked over at Erica. “So, how much do your parents hate the rest of us?” 

“My dad is trying to organize a movement of people to vote for anyone running against your dad in the next election.” Erica rolled her eyes. “Because if he’s raising you and you’re encouraging me to go to raves and steal, and somehow causing my seizures on top of that, you Stilinskis are bad people and someone has to take you down a peg or two.”

“Yeah? Who’s he got in mind for a replacement, himself?” Stiles snorted, but he knew a second later that it had been the wrong thing to say. 

Erica stood up, picked up her tray, and joined the other two girls at their table. She flipped Stiles off. 

“Family loyalty is weird.” Stiles muttered. “Erica’s parents never let her do anything, they treat her like a fragile doll, but the second someone insults them, she’s pissed off.” 

“Mine abandoned me when I was a kid.” Theo mumbled. “And I don’t want anyone saying bad things about them, even though they deserve it. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I don’t think about all the time they’ve been gone. I think about the way my mom put band-aids on my knees when I was really little and tripped and fell. I remember how my dad sang songs while he cooked breakfast. In the end, they weren’t very good people, but when they actually made an effort to be parents, they were great ones. I still miss them, in spite of how they left.” 

“You know that you’re probably actually related to...” Stiles didn’t bother supplying a name. 

“Yeah, but that just makes things weirder.” Theo looked up at Stiles, holding his gaze. 

Stiles blinked when Scott cleared his throat. He turned toward his best friend. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Scott grinned. “I have to go. I’m not avoiding you, I promise. I just need to talk to Allison.”

“Okay, speaking of weird behavior...” Stiles muttered. 

***

After school, Stiles waited in front of the building for his dad to pick him up. Even though Theo had driven his truck to school earlier in the day, he had made plans with a few of their mutual friends to get everything from his house and donate it, and Stiles had told them to go ahead without him. He was going to spend the afternoon trying to narrow down their suspect list with his dad in the creepiest game of Guess Who, ever. He waved to his dad and ran down the front steps of the building, getting into the passenger side of the cruiser. 

“Theo’s busy?” Noah asked, glancing over at his son as he turned around and drove toward the lot’s exit. 

“Yeah, he’s decided he’s staying with us indefinitely, since the alternative is to be on his own and he never actually wanted that. And now that you know... or now that you’ve admitted that you always knew, I guess he figures he doesn’t have to keep hiding out in that house? Why didn’t you ever say anything?” 

“I know this sounds like the strangest thing to you, but the foster care system isn’t perfect and my job is to help make sure that kids in dangerous living conditions get the help they need. Theo had it rough, but he was never in any real danger. I sent deputies by his house a couple of times a day in unmarked cars, just in case he had problems with police. There was no need to scare him. His grades didn’t slip. The food he took was a problem for me until I realized that every time he went to the store, the cashiers called the Whittemores and they came in and paid for it. It’s not that your friend is stupid, he just has, in some ways, the mentality of a nine year old. That’s why what I’m about to ask you isn’t easy for me.” 

Stiles squinted, feeling confused, but he nodded. “Okay, go ahead?” 

“I haven’t seen Derek around in the past few weeks. I know you said that this Observer of yours told you to stay away from him, if you wanted him to stay safe. But I also know that you’re a stubborn little shit most of the time and if you wanted to see Derek, you wouldn’t let anyone stop you. So I guess what I’m wondering is, did you two break up?” 

“I don’t see what this has to do with Theo.” Stiles muttered. “And the Observer isn’t _my_ Observer. I don’t claim him, he’s a toolbag.” He stared out the window as his dad turned onto their street. “I haven’t broken up with Derek, no. We haven’t really said much to each other, that’s true. I did spend a day with him, but... then Scott was nearly murdered, so I haven’t gone back. I do blame myself, because I broke the rules and Scott suffered for it. I’m not so interested in Derek that I’d let Scott die.” 

“And you don’t have feelings for anyone else?” Noah prompted. “Because you might not have caught on to it yet, but the time you were spending with Derek has become time you’ve started spending with Theo.” 

“I have a boyfriend. Derek.” Stiles got out of the car and walked around the front of it. 

‘Well, you know you can be attracted to more than one person at a time.” Noah shrugged, gauging his son’s reaction. “Your mom and I had a deal about Harrison Ford.” 

“Mom made you promise that she could sleep with Harrison Ford?” Stiles laughed. 

“I didn’t say that.” Noah smirked. 

Stiles’ mouth opened and he stared at his father in disbelief. “Okay, what?!” 

“Hey, it’s Han Solo. I’m not made of stone.” Noah laughed when Stiles sputtered. “I know it’s different when the people you’re attracted to are close friends of yours and you’re seeing someone already.” He unlocked the front door and stepped inside, taking off his shoes. “But I’m not concerned about whether or not you have feelings for someone else. I guess it’s news to you that you do, and that’s something you’re going to have to deal with on your own, I can’t give you answers for what to do about it. I’m just saying that Theo’s going to have to learn to rely on other people a little more and that’s not going to be easy for him. Or for you, since your whole world has been about micro-managing everybody else, and I don’t think your friend, or crush, or whatever you decide he is to you is going to appreciate that. If you need a metaphor, Scott’s more like a puppy, happy to see you and expecting you to play fetch with him. Theo’s more like a stray cat. It’s going to take more time to gain his trust, the way you expect to already have it.” 

“I think you put way too much thought into this.” Stiles shook his head and walked up the stairs. “I’m making salad for dinner! You’ve had too much pizza in the past twenty-four hours.” 

“And I’m a rabbit.” Noah muttered. “Or at least, you try to feed me like one.” 

“I heard that!” Stiles yelled, snorting. He started shredding lettuce and carrots as he thought over what his dad had told him. He hadn’t intended to replace one person with another, but he _had_ done that and it made him feel a little sick to realize it. He thought about Derek’s arms around him, just holding him while he slept, when Stiles’ first task had left him feeling shaken. It felt almost like a strange dream, in comparison to the way his anxiety had faded in the Jeep, when Theo prevented him from falling face-first into the broken glass of the driver’s side window. 

Stiles abandoned his dinner preparations and sat down at the table. “Dad, just order dinner.” He called out weakly. “I don’t care.” He barely acknowledged his dad’s presence a few minutes later when a chair was pulled out from the table and Noah sat down across from him. 

“I know it’s not easy, thinking about the fact that your heart might’ve moved on before your brain was ready.” Noah said gently. “And I’d like to tell you that your mom was the only person I ever had feelings for, but it would be a lie. I was a teenager too, at one point. It doesn’t make you a bad person if you decide you’re not so sure you want to pursue this thing with Derek. The reasons don’t matter. It’s not that you set out to hurt him.” 

“But I’m going to, I think?” Stiles looked up at his dad, feeling more confused than ever. “Derek’s had a really rough time, being manipulated into doing things he didn’t want to do, just in an effort to save his sister. One of the dares was for him to kiss me, and I thought he didn’t actually want to. The thing was, he did want to kiss me, but he didn’t want it to be like that. He wanted to do it on his own terms, not... so that they would make sure Cora got something to eat. And what happens if... okay. Theo and Lydia broke up today, but it was because of a few other reasons. It didn’t have anything to do with me. So even if I did, let’s say, have an interest in Theo? If I break up with Derek and Theo doesn’t want me, then I broke up with Derek for no reason. Then we’re both emotional wrecks on our own instead of happy with one another, and I don’t want to break up with him, find out Theo doesn’t want me, and tell Derek I fucked up and that I want him back. But I don’t want to ask Theo how he feels before I talk to Derek, because that’s what they refer to these days as emotional cheating. Or something like that, at least.” 

“You’re going to get pissed off at what I’m about to tell you.” Noah said cautiously. “But I think you’re going to have to decide which way you want to handle it, because if you give yourself a minute, you’ll see that you’re already there, anyway. I want you to think back to last night, when we were ordering dinner. What did you ask Theo?” 

“I asked him if he wanted hamburger and black olives on his.” Stiles shrugged. “So? Everybody has their favorite pizza toppings and way they drink their coffee. That doesn’t mean anything.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything if you’re working at Starbucks and he’s a regular customer.” Noah corrected. “Kid, you kept track of Lydia’s menstrual cycle on the calendar in our kitchen, so you’d know when to sneak chocolates into her locker.” 

Stiles’ face reddened in embarrassment. “Oh my god, how did you know that?” 

Noah tapped his badge and snorted, shaking his head. “What’s Derek’s favorite pizza at Antonio’s?” 

“He doesn’t like pizza from out here, he likes how they make it in New York.” Stiles cringed. “Okay, so... yeah. I have a problem.” 

“You do.” Noah agreed. “But you’ve been able to talk your way around that sort of thing since you were in diapers, so I know you’ll handle it.” He got up from the table and swept the lettuce and carrots off of the counter and into the trash. “Now, about this Observer....” 

“Mr. Freeze.” Stiles corrected. 

“I’m not calling him that. Go get your yearbook.” Noah answered the door to let Theo in while Stiles was retrieving the book from his bedroom. “We’re having Italian for dinner. I didn’t know what to get you, so I went with spaghetti. Stiles always gets manicotti, though. If you want that, take it up with him.” 

“Yes, sir.” Theo murmured. 

“And you might want to lay off of that, too.” Noah laughed. “I spent time in the military, sure. But those days are over. No need to address me as sir.” 

“Yes, s- uh, okay.” Theo stammered.

“How about if you go do your homework while Stiles and I take care of trying to pinpoint this kid?” Noah suggested. 

“Uh, I can help?” Theo offered. “If you don’t mind me helping.” 

Noah hid his smile as Theo glanced down the hall, toward Stiles’ bedroom. “Why don’t you go help him find his yearbook from last year? He’s got an organizational system I don’t understand, and sometimes I think he doesn’t get it, himself.” 

Stiles opened his door, smiling tensely at Theo. “Hey.” 

“Your dad says you’re trying to find your yearbook?” Theo looked around the room, his eyebrows raised at the piles of clutter all over the floor. “You have no idea where it is, do you?” 

“Actually, no.” Stiles admitted. “But come on in here and close the door? I’ll take a break from looking. I need to talk to you.” He sat down on his bed and looked up at Theo. 

“If this is about Jackson’s dad again-” Theo sat in Stiles’ desk chair. 

“No, that’s not... what would you say if I told you that Erica wants to go out with Cora?” Stiles tried not to cringe, knowing that he was already messing up the conversation, but not sure how to fix it. 

“I’d say that Derek should hide his knives, because they both have volatile tempers and if they ever argued, it might result in a stabbing situation.” Theo shook his head. “But Erica’s dating Boyd and I thought they were happy.” 

“Well, what if Erica’s not actually happy because she hasn’t spent much time with Boyd in the past few weeks and she’s been filling those gaps of... oh my god, I can’t do this.” Stiles groaned. “Do you like me? I mean, is that an actual thing taking place here? Because conversations need to be had, if you do.” 

“What kind of conversations?” Theo looked wary. “If you’re trying to let me down gently, don’t bother. I’d rather just know where I stand without any room for confusion.” 

“To let you down, you have to be up in the first place, don’t you?” Stiles stared at Theo. “Are... I wish I had phrased this better, but are you, you know, up?” 

Theo nodded slowly. “Like a helium balloon.” He mumbled. “Do I need to go stay somewhere else? Is that a problem?” 

“It’s a problem.” Stiles agreed. He was up off the bed in an instant, gripping Theo’s shoulders before the other teen could leave the room. “It’s a problem because I have to break up with Derek. I won’t cheat on him. But it’s also that I might need time before this goes anywhere. And I think you do, too. It’s probably shitty for us to break up with the people we’re seeing and start a relationship right away, yeah? Just give me a chance to talk to Derek.” He sighed. “I just hope that the fucking Snow Miser doesn’t try to kill anyone else if he sees me going to Derek’s apartment.” 

“He’s the Snow Miser, now?” Theo laughed. “Pick a name and stick with it.” He licked his lips. “I’m not going to try anything.” He whispered, bringing his hands up to rest on Stiles’ waist. “Can we just stand here like this for a little while? Today hasn’t been easy for me in any regard and I just want a minute to be happy about the fact that you’re interested in me. I thought I was going to put myself through hell, staying here and eventually having to see you kissing Derek and trying to pretend it didn’t affect me.” 

Stiles closed his eyes and nodded. He thought about how his dad had told him that his heart had moved on before his mind caught up, and he knew it was true. “How long should we wait, do you think? A week? Three weeks?” 

“An hour.” Theo smiled. “I want to kiss you right now, but I won’t.” He let go of Stiles reluctantly and went across the hall to his own bedroom. 

Stiles called Derek as he sat back down on his bed, his sides warm from where Theo’s hands had held him close. “Are you busy tonight? I need to talk to you.” 

“Do you want me to come over?” Derek offered. He sounded resigned, and Stiles knew that Derek was aware of what was about to happen. It didn’t make him feel any better. 

“No. I think this is the kind of thing that’s going to suck no matter what.” Stiles said bluntly. “So maybe neutral ground? I don’t want either of our homes to be where a bad memory bugs us.” 

“Yeah, I thought this was coming.” Derek cleared his throat. “You don’t have to meet me anywhere, I know what you’re not saying. I would really rather not see you in person, if that’s all right with you. Not that I’m giving you much of a choice. I hope... I want you to be happy. And I know you want me to be happy, too. It’s going to take me some time, though. I’ll see you later.” He hung up.

Stiles tossed his phone aside and laid down on his stomach. It would be easy to blame himself, but he didn’t. He blamed the Argents for manipulating him and Derek, the Observer for taking things even further and keeping them apart, giving his heart the freedom to make him fall for someone else. He didn’t realize he was crying until his bedroom door opened and closed. The bed dipped beside him when Theo laid down and rubbed his back until he calmed down enough to fall asleep. His last thought was that his father had been wrong, that Stiles was the one who needed to be treated like a frightened, vicious stray. 

***

_qfmmrfyppgqrfgpbncpgmbrypecrkaayjjhmz_

Stiles rubbed his eyes, but the strange series of letters didn’t form any actual words. He carried the paper into his room and sat at the desk that Theo had returned to him, the day before. After running the letters through a translator, he found the only combination that made any sense.

_shootharristhirdperiodtargetmccalljob_

“Dad?” Stiles called out. “We have a much better idea of where to find the Observer.” He pointed at his computer screen when Noah walked into the bedroom. “Third period is my chemistry class. All seven of us have it at the same time.” 

“I can get the class roster.” Noah nodded. “This counts as probable cause. I’m sending a deputy over to Deaton’s clinic, too. No need for Scott to get fired in retaliation.” He clapped a hand down on Stiles’ shoulder. “This is good work, son.” 

Stiles grinned up at his dad, whose attention was already elsewhere. Namely, Stiles’ bed, where Theo had fallen asleep beside him and was still not awake. “Hey, Scott and I did that all the time, too.” He said defensively. 

“Yeah, but you and Scott were eight and weren’t romantically-inclined.” 

Stiles looked uncomfortable as he squirmed in his seat, then spoke. “Uh, I broke up with Derek and I might have been crying.” He muttered. “Theo was just trying to comfort me.”

“Well, wake him up and tell him you both need to get to school.” Noah advised. “But stay away from Harris’ classroom today.” 

“Won’t that be a sign that some shit is about to happen?” Stiles looked worried. 

“Let me and my deputies handle that.” Noah left the room. 

Stiles leaned down to shake Theo’s shoulder, flailing when his boyfriend-to-be pulled him down to the mattress and rolled over, pinning him. “Cute.” He smirked. 

“I’m taking you on a date.” Theo licked his lips as he stared down at Stiles. “This weekend. After the Observer is dealt with. I know it’s something you’re going to say is too soon, but it’s just dinner. Maybe a movie? And then afterward, we’ll come back here and that can be it, if you want. But it doesn’t have to be.” 

Stiles lifted his head to kiss Theo softly. “I like the sound of all of that. I would have probably asked you, but it’s a little weird to invite someone on a date and then insist that they drive.” He agreed that it was too soon, but he had no idea if he would be alive by sunset. Wasting a single second wasn’t something he wanted to do ever again. 

***

Stiles was on his way into the library at the start of third period when he felt a hand grip his collar and yank him backward. “Hey, I could probably have you busted for assault.” 

“Somehow, Mr. Stilinski, I doubt it.” Mr. Harris remarked. “You’re aware that you’re to be in my class at this time, correct?” 

“Yes, but I -” 

“Would like to also have detention from me, as usual?” The teacher glared. “I recommend you start walking in the direction of the lab.” 

“No.” Stiles cleared his throat. “And if you’re smart, you won’t go there, either.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“It’s all right.” A soft-spoken teen closed his locker door and turned toward them, aiming a gun at the teacher. 

Harris’ eyes widened and he yanked Stiles in front of him. 

“Oh, holy shit.” Stiles blurted. “Seriously, you fucking pathetic asshole?” 

“Are you talking to me, or to him?” Isaac Lahey looked amused as he disengaged the safety on the gun. 

“Actually, him.” Stiles muttered. “Not even I would be stupid enough to insult someone with a gun pointed at me. Let me guess, though? You knew I wasn’t going to do this task, either. You really have me all figured out, don’t you?” 

“I have all of you figured out.” Isaac said calmly. He glanced at the teacher, who was cowering behind Stiles, then snorted and shook his head. “Do you think he knows that he’s going to lose his job for endangering the life of a student?” 

“I think right now, he’s only concerned about not pissing all over his own shoes. And if it wasn’t for the fact that I have no doubt in my mind that you’re going to murder him, I’d move out of the way and let you hit him in the shoulder or the groin or whatever.” Stiles cleared his throat. “A few things, though?” 

“I’m listening. I’m always listening.” Isaac mumbled. “So go ahead.” 

“One, your hand is shaking. You’re nervous. Nervous people sweat and lose their grip on things. I don’t want you to shoot me, so maybe you can at least point the gun at the floor? Just until we’re done talking. And you know I can talk for awhile, so maybe by the time I’m done, you won’t be nervous anymore and I can get this fucking Snape wannabe to let go of me, so I can get out of the way? And if that happens, I’ll even help you aim to get him in the shoulder. Because you don’t want to end up in prison for murder. A bullet wound in the shoulder won’t impact him long-term. Not physically. It might make him think twice before he picks on kids like us.” Stiles had read enough police training manuals and seen enough movies to know that keeping Isaac focused on him and talking would be the best way to get the teen to see them as equals. As long as he kept making ‘us’ statements, he had a chance of making sure he and Harris stayed safe. “Two, my friends are waiting in the library because my dad and some of the deputies are in the lab, waiting for us to show up there. They got the class roster before homeroom today, and they knew they were looking for someone that matches your profile, okay? And even if they weren’t sure, they’re going to know something’s wrong when you, Mr. Hand and I don’t show up.” 

“Mr. Hand?” Isaac repeated. “Who’s that? I know who Snape is.” 

“Well, yeah, everyone knows who Snape is. Mr. Hand is from Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Have you ever seen that one?” Stiles smiled gently. “He’s such an asshole. Just like Harris.” 

“Shut up!” The teacher yelled from behind him. 

Stiles closed his eyes as he heard doors opening up and down the hallway, followed by a couple of screams and doors slamming shut. He gulped, hoping his dad was already on his way to find him. “Isaac, don’t freak out at all of the attention that Harris just got you, all right? I’m going to back up, and if this arrogant little bitch knows what’s good for him, he’ll do it, too. For every step backward I take, I want you to take one or two forward. But keep the gun held down at your side. Like this.” He motioned with his right hand. “All of the teachers’ windows are just at the right height that they’re going to notice if you’re holding the gun at an angle. If it looks like you’re just walking slowly, they won’t see much of anything unusual. They might ask you why you’re not in class, but most of them are just focused on teaching the kids already in those rooms. You think you’re invisible. I want you to know that you’re not, but for now, invisible is good. Okay? Invisible means nobody has to actually get hurt. And we can talk about why you hate Harris so much. I mean, everyone hates him. Pretty sure he hates himself.” As Stiles spoke, he kept moving backward, stomping on the teacher’s foot when he wasn’t cooperating. “So, what’d he do to you?” 

“Gave me detention. And low grades on papers that I knew I did pretty well on.” Isaac said softly. “My dad asked me how my grades were. He didn’t like my answer very much.” 

“You were an observer in the games, back in January. Weren’t you?” Stiles held a hand up slowly and looked in an open classroom door, verifying that it was empty. He pointed toward it, giving Isaac a questioning look and smiling softly, deliberately, when Isaac nodded for him to go ahead and enter the room. 

“Yeah, that’s where I got the idea.” Isaac glanced at the seats. “Sit in the middle.” He told them. “Not too far from me and not too close.” He stood in front of the teacher’s desk. 

“Good thinking.” Stiles sat down, yanking Harris’ sleeve when the teacher seemed like he was going to choose now to be defiant and stay standing. “But why pick us? Why do any of this? I mean, other than shooting Harris. I understand that.” 

Isaac shook his head. “I know what you’re trying to do. I’ll tell you, but it’s because I want someone to listen, not because I’m being manipulated by you. I’m not stupid.” 

“I know you’re not stupid. You managed to stay ahead of me this long, and I thought I was better than this.” Stiles shrugged one shoulder. 

“My brother joined the military to get away from my dad, but he did ROTC here to learn to defend himself. And when my dad couldn’t hurt him anymore, he started in on me, instead. Harris is the ROTC instructor. Did you know that?” 

Stiles shook his head. “I’ve never been into the military and all of that stuff.” He admitted. “It must have pissed you off, thinking about how the guy who helped your brother made your life at home that much worse.” 

“Yeah that was part of it.” Isaac sighed. “But all of you, you and your friends? You went from being loners like me to being popular. And I saw what happened with Allison’s aunt. She was manipulated into believing in the monsters because her dad made her do that. She was a victim and you didn’t stop to think about that. You just assumed that she was doing all of these things because she wanted to. But maybe she wanted to because she didn’t know any differently. Like your friend, Theo. He didn’t know that Jackson’s dad paid his bills and bought him food, and took care of him, even though he lives all alone in the middle of town. But me?” He shook his head. “I’m his neighbor, just across the street, and he hears my dad screaming at me. He hears me begging for help, and he doesn’t ever do anything. Neither does Jackson. I know there’s that whole paradox, too. That if someone called, I’d deny it. But he kept Theo alive in a house by himself, he could have done the same for me. He could have done more. He’s the district attorney and he was more interested in buying his son a Porsche than stopping my dad from locking me in a freezer.” 

“Jesus, these sob stories.” Harris muttered. 

Stiles knew it was a bad idea, but he took his eyes off of Isaac - and the gun - and turned toward Harris. “Would you shut the fuck up? I get it, you think it’s not your job to care about anyone who isn’t wandering around the halls or sitting in your classroom. But did you know that Scott’s mom works sixteen straight hours, at least twice a week, to make sure Scott has his inhaler? Scott got a job when he was fourteen, which is younger than he’s supposed to, just to try to help out because he felt guilty. _For having asthma._ You know those times he’s asked you to give him until the end of the school day? It’s because he worked until midnight or later at the animal clinic, helping Deaton put a cast on a dog’s broken leg or... once, he helped deliver a litter of kittens because the cat was having trouble. To you, those are just animals, but Scott sees them as creatures that need extra help, the way he does. I’m not saying you should give everyone straight As, either. But-” He felt warm liquid hitting him in the face and froze, his ears ringing. He was dimly aware of what had just happened, but too stunned to move. He felt hands grabbing his shirt, dragging him out of his seat.


	10. The End

Stiles reached for Theo’s hand as they sat in front of the two-way mirror, the next afternoon. His hearing was still a little messed up, but not so bad that he couldn’t listen to Isaac being questioned by Deputy Parrish. Stiles’ father had insisted on someone else doing it, knowing the case was far too personal for him to handle. Even with him being objective, someone was bound to have questions. 

Theo glanced over his shoulder at the rest of their friends, trying not to look as smug as he felt as he looked at Derek, who stared blankly back at him. He leaned toward Stiles and kissed his cheek. “We don’t actually have to be here, you know?” 

“Maybe you don’t, but I do. I need to hear it again. All of it.” Stiles muttered. “I already know why he did what he did, but if he admits that his dad was abusive, he’ll get a lesser sentence and while, uh, maybe he deserves that?” He shook his head slightly. “I want to know how long we have until he’s out. And how long we’ll have once his dad gets brought in, since it’s pretty obvious that they like to get revenge on people who didn’t even do anything to them. If Isaac tells them. My statement doesn’t mean shit if he refuses to tell Parrish.” 

“At least this means we can go back to spending time with everyone instead of just being selective, to avoid penalty of death.” Scott nodded to Danny and Boyd. “I still don’t understand all of this.” 

“For the last time.” Stiles sighed. “Kate’s autopsy showed skin damage that was consistent with repeat exposure to cold environments. It wasn’t what killed her. I did that. But Isaac had spent time in a freezer, too. He saw the skin damage when he and his dad were getting everything ready for Kate’s funeral. He recognized it as being the same problem he had, so he started reading over news articles and looking up places where Gerard and Kate lived, trying to figure out more about her. He didn’t see any difference between himself and her, after awhile. He wanted us to suffer, to know what it was like to feel alone and ignored. To not have other people to rely on. He saw things about Kate that I didn’t want to see. I’m still not sure I give a shit.” Stiles frowned. “She would have killed Scott. Isaac would have killed Scott. I’m not losing sleep over Kate’s death and I’m not going to lose sleep over Isaac’s incarceration. I might have a nightmare or three about Harris getting shot in the head right in front of me.” 

“Yeah, that kind of thing can suck.” Allison muttered. “Get back to me when you’re on month three of waking up in the middle of the night, screaming.”

“Leave him alone.” Derek spoke up from the back of the room, where he was leaning against a wall, his arms folded. “You only know the things that your aunt was willing to let you see. You don’t know what she was like. If you would take the time to realize that she was one of the monsters she insisted she was hunting, you’d stop blaming Stiles and maybe you’d stop having nightmares.” 

“Besides, Derek and I have you beat.” Cora retorted. “We’ve been having nightmares for years.” 

“You realize that you’re arguing about who among us is the most traumatized?” Stiles twisted around in his seat to look around the room. “Can’t we all just be on the Island of Misfit Toys and get along from now on?” 

“The Spring Formal is in two weeks.” Lydia frowned as she tugged at one of her short locks of hair. “Maybe I won’t go.” 

“You’re going.” Erica protested. “Because the only way I can get my parents to let me go is if you go, and I want to go with Boyd.” 

“Fine, but don’t wear blue.” Lydia demanded. “Jackson, you’re going to be my date.” 

“Me? What if I have other plans?” Jackson smiled slowly. 

“Like what, watching one of your stupid basketball movies? You realize that you’re the only person in this entire town that has an appreciation for those?” Lydia folded her arms across her chest and pouted. 

“I’ll take you to the dance.” 

Stiles’ mouth dropped open and he stared up at Derek. “Um... which one of you learned ventriloquism?” 

“Shut up, Stiles.” Derek laughed softly and turned his attention back to Lydia. “I’m serious, I’ll take you to the dance if Jackson would rather stay home and watch basketball.” 

“Basketball _movies_. Basketball is over for the season.” Jackson protested. 

“Literally no one cares.” Stiles rolled his eyes, grinning at Theo when his boyfriend squeezed his hand. 

“Stiles, we’re not even trying to pay attention to what Mr. Freeze is trying to say anymore, can we please just leave?” Theo pleaded. “I’ll let you drive my truck.” 

“I don’t want to drive your truck.” Stiles smiled. 

“Can I drive your truck?” Scott leaned forward, looking at Theo. 

“No, you broke Jackson’s, you can’t touch mine.” Theo scoffed, blinking in confusion when Stiles and Erica burst out laughing. “Well, he did.” 

Lydia looked up when the door swung open and the Sheriff stared in disbelief at all of them. “Leave?” She guessed. 

“Yes!” Noah stared at his son, relieved to see him laughing. “Get out of here.” 

“Dinner at my house.” Stiles suggested. “But not pizza. I’m sick of pizza.” 

“Italian?” Cora asked. 

“What part of ‘I’m sick of pizza’ did you not understand?” Stiles got up from his seat and followed everyone to the door. 

“Does Mexican pizza count as pizza, since it’s not Italian?” Scott looked intrigued. 

“If we’re going to Taco Bell and I don’t get nachos, I’m going to kill you all and say it’s some variant of the Twinkie Defense.” Jackson pulled his jacket on and stepped out into the hallway. 

“The Twinkie Defense was about a guy who ate a lot of them, not someone who was deprived.” Stiles corrected. 

“Why do you always know the random shit?” Boyd’s eyebrow raised. 

“Because I like to keep people guessing. When I can.” Stiles explained. 

“Well, you succeed at that.” Derek mumbled. 

Noah walked into the room that the teenagers had vacated, shutting the door behind him and sitting down to watch the rest of Isaac’s detailed account of every step he had taken to punish Stiles and his friends. He had already spoken to David Whittemore about a few things, and the attorney was coming by with a lot of forms. He was glad that nobody had called him out on the fact that the room was soundproofed; he hadn’t wanted Jackson or Theo around, worried that they would overhear the truth that had been kept from them for so long. Eventually, they would have to know. But not yet. The kids needed a break, and Noah was glad that everyone else agreed with him on that.


End file.
